


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 


I 

















THE 

MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


BY 


LIEUT. HOWARD PAYSON ii 

•J'— 

AUTHOR OF “THE BOY SCOUTS SERIES,” “THE MOTOR CYCLE 
CHUMS AROUND THE WORLD,” “THE MOTOR CYCLE 
CHUMS OF THE NORTHWEST PATROL,” ETC 

; i. 

V A 7 'A f , . ■ - 




WITB ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
CHARLES L. WRENN 


NEW YORK 

HURST & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 





Copyright, 1912, 

BY 

HURST & COMPANY 


(O;CI.A3281b0 


r/. t'-jf- 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGfi 

I. The ''Heathen Chinee” .... 5 

II. The Lone Cottonwood 14 

III. The Wounded Wayfarer .... 23 

IV. A Mystery of the Road 31 

V. The Riding Rovers 40 

VI. Tom Finds a Relative 49 

VII. A Stranoe Story 59 

VIII. Into Trouble 71 

IX. In the Dark 81 

X. The Search Begins 90 

XL A Mongolian Detective 98 

XII. A Strange Prison 106 

XIII. "No Thoroughfare!” 115 

XIV. Whose Move Next? 125 

XV. In the Old Bell Tower 137 

XVL Home Again 147 

XVII. The Gold Trail 156 

3 


CONTENTS 


4 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVIIL “There's No Water’' 165 

XIX. An Odd Character 173 

XX. Who Also Proves Dangerous . . .182 

XXL The Devil's Punch Bowl .... 197 

XXII. A Den of Rattlers 204 

XXIII. The Dancing Halos 215 

XXIV. The Mine at Last! 229 

XXV. A Place of Mystery 242 

XXVI. More Discoveries 254 

XXVII. Chilvers Takes His Life in His 

Hands 264 

XXVIII. Aladdin's Cave 274 


The Motor Cycle Chums in 
the Gold Fields 


CHAPTER I. 

THE ‘‘heathen CHINEE/' 

“Whoa, there 

“Hold on, Wing LungT’ 

“Where are you off to — China?’’ 

These exclamations volleyed from the aston- 
ished lips of Ned Winton and Tom Chase, the 
two Motor Cycle Chums, as something that 
looked like a streak of blue flame flashed past 
them down the steep mountain road along which 
they were riding on their two well-known 
mounts, the Red Streak and the Blue Bird. 

From behind them had suddenly come a se- 
ries of shouts and alarmed yells, and they had 


5 


C) THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

turned their heads just in time to behold Wing 
Lung, the clever Chinee, dash around a corner 
at the speed of a runaway locomotive. His 
‘'pop-pop bikee,” as he called the one-cylindered 
motor cycle which had been given to him when 
Ned came into possession of the Red Streak, 
was roaring like a gatling gun going into action. 
Blue smoke streaked out behind it in almost as 
straight a line as Wing’s pigtail, which stood 
out as stiffly as a strand of barbed wire. 

The road at this point appeared fairly to hang 
on the edge of the mountain, like an eyebrow on 
a human face. On one side the rugged accliv- 
ity shot steeply upward. On the other a deep 
canyon dropped as sharply downward. 

The boys had had just time to turn out and 
avoid a collision as Wing Lung shot by, clinging 
to his handle bars with an expression of wild 
terror on his round and usually good-humored 


countenance. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


7 


‘‘Him lun away ! All samee locusmocus he 
had yelled as he passed. 

“Put on the brakes roared Ned after him. 

“No can put on blakee. Blakee they blakee all 
samee/’ came faintly back, as Wing Lung dashed 
on down the road, his machine leaping into the 
air like a bucking broncho every time he struck 
a rut. 

“Gracious, Ned, he’ll be killed!” gasped out 
Tom, as the two boys put on speed and made after 
the runaway motor cycle and its badly scared 
Mongolian burden. 

“No, this hill ends a short distance ahead. If 
he can only stick on, and doesn’t meet something, 
he’ll — G-g-r-eat S-s-scott I” 

There was no need for Tom to inquire the rea- 
son for Ned’s exclamation. They had just 
rounded a curve which brought them into full 
view of the diminishing figure of Wing Lung 
as it catapulted down the hill. The steep grade 
ran downward like a white ribbon between the 


8 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

canyon and the hillside. At its foot there had 
just come into sight a loaded hay wagon, slowly 
ascending the height. 

Toward this, Wing Lung on his runaway mo- 
tor cycle was racing at uncontrollable speed. 
There was no room, even had there been time, 
for the driver of the hay wagon to turn out. A 
collision was inevitable. The boys, with alarmed 
looks, checked the speed of their machines and 
helplessly watched for the accident to happen. 

Even at their distance they could hear one loud 
yell from the Chinaman: 

‘‘Me one piecee smashee up!” 

Half unconsciously both boys turned away for 
an instant. They could almost imagine that they 
heard the crash of the collision as the unfor- 
tunate Mongolian plunged into the hay wagon. 
But no such sound occurred. Instead came 
shouts from the driver of the wagon. 

They looked down toward the foot of the hill. 
The load of hay lay in a huge pile in the road, 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


9 


while the driver was trying to quiet two plung- 
ing, terrified horses. Of Wing Lung nothing was 
to be seen, but something that looked like his 
motor cycle was to be made out lying at one side 
of the spilled load of hay. 

‘'Come on, Ned; let’s find out the worst,” urged 
Tom, once more giving his motor cycle power. 

“Maybe it isn’t as bad as we think. Remem- 
ber how I ran into a hay wagon once in the 
Northwest?” 

The two machines raced off down the hill, 
their young owners greatly perturbed at the 
thought of Wing Lung’s probable fate. In a 
few minutes they were flinging themselves from 
their machines beside the big pile of hay. At 
the same instant a faint yell became perceptible. 

“Me killee heap dead ! Me allee samee go Chi- 
nee heaben !” 

“That’s Wing, all right!” exclaimed Tom, “and 
thank goodness he’s alive. But where on earth 
is he?” 


10 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


Where, indeed, could the Chinee have van- 
ished? Not a sign was to be seen of him, but 
still, there was his voice calling out, faintly 
enough, to be sure, but still audible. It was as 
if he were appealing to them from a great dis- 
tance. 

For an instant they puzzled over the problem 
and then Tom solved it by a flash of inspiration : 

‘Xook! He’s in the hay!” he cried. 

Sure enough, sticking out of the spilled load 
could now be made out a pair of blue-clad legs 
waving to and fro as if in protest. But of the 
rest of their owner nothing was visible save his 
white socks and red-and-green-embroidered shoes 
with their thick, soft soles. 

''Grab hold and we’ll pull him out before he 
suffocates!” cried Tom. 

With a will each lad seized a leg and tugged. 
In a few seconds they dragged Wing Lung out 
of the hay in much the same manner that a cork 
is pulled out of a bottle. His eyes, nose, ears. 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 11 

and pigtail were full of cockle burrs and hay 
seed, but as soon as he could speak he informed 
them that he wasn’t hurt. 

“Me welly much allee litee now,” he assured 
them; “welly good thing for cleveh Chinee that 
hay be there, so be !” 

“A good thing, eh, you yellow-skinned ras- 
cal!” bawled the indignant owner of the hay 
load, who, up to that instant, had been too busy 
quieting his horses to take any part in the pro- 
ceedings. “I’ll fix you for dumping my load 
and scaring my team half to death, you pigtailed 
heathen ! Come down the road like a blue streak, 
would yer, you Mongolian scorcher, you! Take 
that!” 

The indignant driver, a husky young farmer, 
red with what he deemed righteous wrath, aimed 
a terrific blow at Wing Lung. But it didn’t 
land. Instead Wing Lung, with a rapid move- 
ment, dodged it, and the next instant the young 


12 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


farmer was rendered harmless by a paroxysm of 
sneezing. 

'‘A-choo ! A-ch-o-o-o-o-o ! Ach-hoh-h-hoh- 
hoh-o-o-o-o-o-h !” he exploded, while the boys 
doubled up with laughter. 

Wing Lung, without a smile on his face, went 
on picking hay seeds out of his long, black, silky 
queue. 

“Me thinkee that feller heap sabee Chinee 
sneezing powder now, all samee!'' he remarked, 
as if talking to himself. “Heap too fleash. Wing 
Lung fixee him; no fightee for whilee.’’ 

When the young and irate farmer had 
charged at him like an enraged bull. Wing Lung, 
by an almost imperceptible movement, had pro- 
duced a pinch of white powder from a mysteri- 
ous recess of his loose blouse. With a flirt of 
the fan which this odd Chinee always carried, 
he had filled the air in front of him with the 
pungent stuflF. 

“A-c-h-hoh-hoh-hoh-o!” the tormented agri- 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


13 


culturist kept exploding, while he writhed about 
and wiped his watering eyes. 

The boys began to look alarmed. But Wing 
Lung merely went on brushing himself with the 
precision that marked all his movements. For 
all the notice he took of his victim he might as 
well have been as far removed from the scene 
as his native China. 

'‘Say, Wing Lung!'’ broke out Tom indig- 
nantly, "this is going too far! Ke'll sneeze his 
head off." 

But Wing Lung only replied: 

"Him allee litee bimeby, so be. Heap sneezee, 
heap goodee. Fixee him tempee so he no more 
mad than little sheepee." 


14 


THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 


CHAPTER 11. 

THE TONE COTTONWOOD. 

As a matter of fact, when his paroxysm of 
sneezing finally subsided, the young farmer did 
appear to be considerably mollified, not to say 
a trifle awed. He made no further effort tb mo- 
lest Wing Lung, who, for his part, generously 
declared that had it not been for the fact that 
he had scared the farmer’s horses by his mad 
flight, and that their sudden shying had dumped 
the load of hay, he might have been seriously 
hurt. 

“And thar’s more truth than poetry in that,” 
declared the other, in an aggrieved tone. “My 
horses scared out of ten years’ growth, an’ me 
with an hour’s work on my hands to get that hay 
back again ! I guess it ought to be worth some- 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 15 

thing to you fellows, if this Chink is anything 
to you/’ 

The boys had to admit that there was some 
truth in what the man said, and a bargain was 
at last agreed upon that was satisfactory to all 
concerned. They helped the man reload his hay 
and then, the injury to Wing Lung’s machine 
yielding quickly to Ned’s mechanical skill, they 
remounted and set off once more for their desti- 
nation, the Winton Ranch, near San Benito, 
Redwood county, California, where both boys 
lived. 

They covered the level road at the foot of the 
grade at a good speed. The way lay across a 
barren stretch of country, dry and uninteresting. 
Here and there grew a cottonwood or a live oak, 
but for the most part the valley between the range 
they had passed and the one that lay between 
themselves and home was bare of anything but 
dust and sage brush. 

As they ride along, with Wing Lung slightly 


16 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

in the rear, it may be a good opportunity to tell 
those of our readers who have not yet made their 
acquaintance something further about Ned and 
Tom and their Chinee. 

In the first volume of this series, ''The Motor 
Cycle Chums Around the World,’' the two young 
lads and their faithful attendant and factotum 
circled the globe, depending frequently upon their 
machines and meeting many interesting adven- 
tures on the way. In Germany they had an ex- 
citing time on a runaway dirigible, while across 
the barren slopes of Siberia they met with many 
unusual experiences. Space will not permit us 
to do more than hint at all they encountered in 
the line of eventful doings, both grave and gay. 

The second volume told of the boys’ adven- 
tures with the Northwest Mounted Police. 
Under the title of "The Motor Cycle Chums of 
the North West Patrol,” as vivid a picture as 
possible was given of the lives of that body of 
semi-military enforcers of law and order. In 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 17 

breaking up a gang of cattle rustlers the boys 
played a lively part, as, indeed, did also Wing 
Lung, the '‘welly cleveh Chinee,’’ as he called 
himself. 

Returning to California, Ned found that his 
parents had determined to prolong their stay in 
the East, so he and Tom Chase, the latter the 
son of a widow who owned a neighboring ranch 
and who was also absent on a visit, were "bach- 
ing it” on the Winton ranch. They found their 
days busy enough, what with superintending the 
ranch work and making frequent trips on their 
motor cycles into the surrounding country. It 
was from one of these that they were returning 
home when Wing Lung met with his adven- 
ture. 

Gliding swiftly along, it seemed that home 
would be reached in a short time and without 
further incident But such was not to be the 
case. A loud "pop!” from Ned’s front tire an- 
nounced that a tube had burst. 


18 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


“Bother the thing!’' indignantly exclaimed the 
boy, coming to a stop, while his companions did 
likewise, “new last week and gone already!” 

“Maybe you can patch it,” suggested Tom; 
“Fve got the vulcanizer.” 

“I certainly will if I can. I’m not a million- 
aire, and while I’ve got a new tube in my kit, I 
don’t want to use it unless I have to.” 

“Don’t blame you,” remarked Tom, delving 
into his kit after the vulcanizing apparatus. 

Wing Lung broke the silence that ensued, 
while Ned stripped off the tire, by a sudden ex- 
clamation. 

“Heap plentee buzzard off there, so be,” he 
remarked casually. 

Above a cottonwood tree that grew on the 
banks of a small arroyo, or dried up water course, 
scores of the black, broad-winged scavengers 
were leisurely circling. Slowly, in long, lazy 
circles, they swung. Some of them swept by 
quite close above the boys’ heads as they sat at 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 


19 


the roadside. Others were as yet mote-like specks 
against the blue sky, but constantly swinging 
lower. 

'‘Must be a dead cow over there,” commented 
Tom. 

"Funny they don’t light, though,” rejoined 
Ned; "usually buzzards will come down in a 
hurry to anything dead; but those fellows don’t 
appear to be in any rush.” 

"No, that’s so. They’re just swinging round 
that cottonwood as if they were watching some- 
thing.” 

"Wonder what it can be. Maybe a stray from 
Foster’s ranch. He lives over west there.” 

"If it wasn’t so hot I’d go and see,” declared 
Tom; and then the next minute he added, "guess 
I’ll go, anyway. There’s something queer about 
the way those buzzards are acting.” 

"Whatever it is they are after, it’s right by 
that cottonwood. Better head for there,” ad- 
vised Ned. 


20 


THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 


‘'All right. Come on, Wing.” 

“Welly well. Me come. You like take medi- 
cine?” 

“What do you mean?” 

The Chinee shrugged his shoulders. 

“Me thinkee maybe you need him plitty soon, 
so be.” 

“What for?” 

“For what be under cottonwood, so be.” 

Tom stared at him. The Chinaman’s moon- 
like, good-humored face was unruffled. Appar- 
ently he was quite in earnest. 

“How in the world do you know what’s under 
that tree?” Tom burst out at length. 

“Me sabe many t’ings,” was the reply; “you 
takee medicine — yes?” 

Once or twice before the “cleveh Chinee” had 
shown a strange sense of intuition, and now, for 
some reason he could not fathom, Tom nodded 
his head. Going to Ned’s machine, he removed 
from the bag in which it was carried a “first aid” 


IX THE GOLD FIELDS 


21 


kit. It contained bandages, antiseptics and so 
on, and on more than one occasion had been use- 
ful to the Motor Cycle Chums. 

Wing Lung nodded approval as he looked 
on. 

'Tlentee good. Now we go,'’ he said. ‘'Men 
plitty wise. Sometimes buzzard more wise." 

And so Tom and the Chinaman set off across 
the strip of barren, sandy ground between the 
spot where they had stopped and the lone cotton- 
wood, above which an ever-increasing number of 
buzzards were swinging and wheeling, their 
black, ragged-tipped wings perfectly motionless 
as they circled. 

Ned went on with his vulcanizing, for the 
“blow-out" in the tube had shown itself to be 
capable of repair. He was so engrossed in his 
work that he did not look once more toward the 
cottonwood till he heard a shout from that direc- 
tion. Raising his eyes, he saw Tom coming 
stumblingly toward him over the rough ground. 


22 


THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 


His hat was off and he was plainly excited. 
‘'Ned! Ned! Come here quick T he was 
shouting, as he ran. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


23 


CHAPTER III. 

THE WOUNDED WAYFARER. 

Ned was on his feet in a jiffy. He knew Tom 
too well to suppose for an instant that his chum's 
summons meant anything trivial. In it he rec- 
ognized a sound that meant that something dis- 
tinctly out of the ordinary had occurred off there 
by the cottonwood. 

“What's the trouble, Tom?" he shouted, as 
Tom came puffingly within easy earshot. 

“It's over there by the cottonwood ! A man ! 
He's " 

“Dead?" exclaimed Ned. as he recalled the 
great flocks of buzzards wheeling above the lone 
tree. 

“No — that is, I don't think so. But he's badly 


hurt." 


24 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

By the time Tom had gone thus far Ned was 
at his side. 

“Let's hurry back," he exclaimed; “perhaps we 
can do something to help him. What seems to be 
the trouble?" 

“Why, there's a big bruise on his head. He's 
unconscious and breathing heavily. A good 
thing those buzzards were hovering above him. 
He might have lain there for days if our atten- 
tion hadn't been attracted." 

It didn't take long to reach the ragged bank 
of the arroyo. It sloped steeply down to the dry 
bed of what was, in the early spring when the 
Sierra snows melted, a roaring torrent. Now it 
was just an arid creek bed ; but still, under a big 
rock, a small pool filled with green-scummed wa- 
ter remained. 

Near this lay the figure of a man clad in rough 
blue garments and coarse hide boots. His som- 
brero lay at some little distance from his still 
form, above which Wing Lung was crouched, 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 25 

bathing a cut in the back of the man’s head with 
a handkerchief wetted in the pool by the rock. 

‘'How’s he getting along, Wing?” inquired 
Tom, as the two chums half-clambered, half-slid 
down the sandy bank of the dry water course. 

The Chinaman looked up with a grave look on 
his ordinarily mask-like countenance. 

“Him plenty bad, Massel Tom. So be he get 
heap big crack on back of head.” 

“Here, let me have a look, Wing,” said Ned, 
coming to the Chinaman’s side. “Humph! that 
is a nasty crack. It needs a doctor to fix that 
up.” 

The man lay partly on his face on the ground, 
one shoulder plowed into the sandy creek bed as 
if his fall had been violent. Across the back of 
his skull was an angry-looking wound. Plainly, 
it had been inflicted by some blunt weapon — a 
club, possibly. At any rate, as they heard the 
injured man’s labored breathing, it struck both 


26 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

Ned and Tom that here was a case for more skill 

than they possessed. 

“Wing, you go and get your machine. Ride as 
fast as you can to Dr. Duncan's ranch. Luckily 
he doesn't live far from here. Waste no time in 
getting back with the doctor." 

Silently, and with the same agility that marked 
all his movements, the Chinaman rose to his feet 
and climbed the steep bank, sure-footed as a cat. 

“Me back plentee so6n, so be," he exclaimed, 
as he topped the bank and vanished. 

“Now, then," said Ned, as the Chinaman dis- 
appeared, “we must do what we can for this poor 
fellow till Wing gets back." 

“Wouldn't he rest more easily if we turned 
him over a little?" suggested Tom. 

“I think so. Take off your coat and we'll 
make a pillow out of it for him. That's it. Now, 
then, catch hold." 

Not without the exertion of considerable ef- 
fort, for the injured man was heavily built, they 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS w*. 27 

managed to move him into a more comfortable 
position. He was a large man, rugged and 
weather beaten, although now a deadly pallor 
underlay his tan. He was of about middle age. 
A big, chestnut-colored beard hid the lower part 
of his face, but judging from the features that 
could be seen that, too, must have been as rugged 
and as firmly molded as the rest of his counte- 
nance. 

'‘Looks like a man who has lived most of his 
life in the open,’’ commented Ned. 

"Yes ; I’ve rarely seen a more powerful-looking 
chap, even in the Northwest. What should you 
think he is, Ned?” 

"I don’t know. Sailor, maybe; something like 
that. He’s Hello, Tom, look there!” 

Ned pointed excitedly to the sand in the vicin- 
ity of the unconscious man. Along it lay a thin, 
glittering line of a bright yellow hue. Ned 
stooped and scooped some of it up in his fingers. 

"What is it?” demanded Tom, peering into 


28 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


Ned's outstretched palm, which the latter was 
regarding with round, wide-open eyes. 

''Gold!" declared Ned, in awe-struck tones. 
"Gold dust! And look there, Tom, what's that 
yonder ?" 

Tom picked up the object indicated. It looked 
like a tiny yellow pebble. 

"A nugget!" he exclaimed; "I've seen speci- 
mens like it in town." 

"Tom, we've stumbled across a mystery of 
some sort." 

"That's clear; but I'm bothered if I can even 
hazard any solution." 

"Nor can I. What is this man doing here, 
wounded, in this unfrequented place, with this 
gold spilled near him ? How did he get here, and 
with what object?" 

"With no object at all," declared Tom. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"He was brought here. The men who injured 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 29 

him deliberately threw him into this arroyo, hop- 
ing to conceal traces of their act/’ 

‘‘They must have robbed him, too.” 

“Plainly enough. In their hurry they spilled 
some of his gold.” 

“But there are no gold mines near here, so 
that the mystery of what he was doing in this 
part of the country remains unsolved.” 

“Yes; there’s only one man who can tell that.” 

“And who is that?” 

“The man himself.” 

“But, Tom, see here ; there’s a bit of paper ly- 
ing on the ground. It must have been jerked 
out of his pocket when the thieves went through 
them.” 

“Well, let’s have a look at it.” 

Tom picked up the scrap of paper. It had 
something scrawled on it. He narrowed his eyes 
to decipher it and then gave a shout of surprise. 

“Great cookies and horned toads, Ned, this 


30 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 

beats all!” was the exclamation that fell from 

his lips. The boy looked fairly dumfounded. 

“Why, what’s up now?” 

“This bit of paper !” exclaimed Tom gaspingly, 
holding out the scrap of writing, still with the 
same astounded look on his face. 

“Well, what about it?” 

“It’s — it’s got my name written on it !” choked 
out Tom, and then it was Ned’s turn to give a 
cry of amazement. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


31 


CHAPTER IV. 

A myste:ry of the road. 

But the mystery had to remain one for some 
time thereafter. The boys were still searching 
the ground for some further light on the puzzle 
which confronted them, when there came a sud- 
den sound of wheels. A few minutes later the 
kindly face of Dr. Duncan appeared on the edge 
of the ravine and peered over in frank astonish- 
ment. 

Dr. Duncan was a fresh-complexioned, gray- 
haired man of past middle age. As a matter of 
fact, he had long since retired from active prac- 
tice as a physician to give himself up to his geo- 
logical studies. These had taken him to most 
civilized parts of the world, and a few uncivi- 
lized ones. But he still continued to give the 


32 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

benefit of his medical skill to his scattered neigh- 
bors in the Lompos Valley. 

“We-el!'' he exclaimed, as he gazed down on 
the boys. ‘'What on earth have you young chaps 
stumbled on now? Wing told me a long tale 
about an unconscious man in this gully. Ap- 
pears to have been struck down. How is he?” 

“Still breathing, doctor, but he looks pretty 
bad,” responded Ned. “I think that the sooner 
you look after him the better.” 

“Quite right ; you did well to send for me. Fll 
be with you in a minute. Wing, hand me my bag 
there — that’s right. Now, then.” 

With almost the agility of a boy. Dr. Duncan 
slid down the bank, and in a jiffy was beside 
them. Bending over the unconscious man, he 
felt his pulse and then examined the wound. 

“Humph ! A magnificent physical specimen or 
he would hardly have survived that blow. Here, 
Ned, hold his head up while I give him some 
restoratives.” 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 33 

The doctor fumbled in his bag and when he 
had produced and administered the required 
stimulants, he bade Ned lay the man’s head down 
again. 

''He ought to come to before long, and then, 
maybe, he can tell us something about himself,” 
. said the doctor. "In the meantime suppose you 
tell me your part of the story.” 

Ned rapidly related the part that they had 
played in the discovery of the senseless man, and 
then, bursting with excitement, went on to relate 
the finding of the gold dust and the slip of paper 
with Tom Chase’s name on it. 

"Humph ! Sounds quite romantic. Let’s have 
a look at that gold dust,” said the prosaic doctor, 
when Ned had finished his recital. 

Ned made for the flat- topped rock where he 
and Tom had carefully deposited the scooped-up 
gold dust and the nugget. He put a pinch of the 
former in his palm and thrust the latter in his 
pocket. The doctor was presently examining 


•34 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

both with care. The boys, as they watched him, 
saw his eyebrows raise and his lips pucker up in 
a whistle of astonishment. 

^'This is indeed a mystery, as you phrased it, 
Ned,'' he said at length. 

‘‘Yes, our finding the gold '^' began Ned; 

but the doctor checked him with a sharp exclama- 
tion. 

“Gold ! This is no more gold than the sand in 
the bottom of this creek." 

“W-h-a-t?" The questioning word came in 
chorus. 

Wing Lung, seeing something unusual going 
on, slipped down from the top of the bank so 
that he might miss nothing of it. 

“Well, if it isn't gold, what is it?" stoutly de- 
manded Ned, feeling, somehow, that he had been 
cheated. 

“Sorry to spoil your romance, my boy, but it’s 
brass. Just brass filings and a small hunk of 
molten brass, and that's all." 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 


35 


“But, what ” from Ned. 

“Why on earth broke in Tom. 

“Hold on a minute,'' cried the doctor, raising 
his hand ; “one at a time. I don't know what, or 
why, any more than you do. It's all just as in- 
scrutable to me as to you. Let's have a look at 
that bit of paper a minute, Tom." 

Tom handed him the torn scrap which bore 
his name inscribed upon it. The doctor knitted 
his brows over it for a time. Then he spoke. 

“This doesn't tell us anything. Except that 
it's very badly written, evidently by a compara- 
tively uneducated man, it shows nothing except 
that this, man, or some one of his friends, knows 
you. You're quite sure you never saw him be- 
fore?" 

“Quite," declared Tom positively; “I'm abso- 
lutely certain of that." 

The man lying on the dry creek bed stirred 
uneasily and groaned. 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

‘‘Hush!'' adjured the doctor, “the stimulants 
are working. Not a word now." 

• He bent over the man, his fingers on the feeble 
pulse. 

Presently the man opened his eyes and stared 
wildly about. All at once his gaze lit on Wing 
Lung. He shrank back as if in terror of the 
Chinaman. 

“It's Sing Lee!" he cried, with pitiful fear. 
“Don't ; don't strike me again. Sing Lee !" 

As if the effort, or the shock, had been too 
much for him, the man sank back once more into 
unconsciousness. 

“Well," announced the doctor, “I can tell you 
two young gentlemen two things; this man will 
recover, and he is in mortal fear of a Chinaman. 
Beyond that the affair is " 

“A Chinese puzzle," broke in Tom. 

“Yes; and the solution will not come till he 
gets better. I think I shall keep him at my house 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


37 


till he is well again. In the meantime if anything 
of interest turns up Til let you know at once.’' 

With some difficulty they managed to get the 
heavy form of the stricken man up the steep bank 
and into the doctor’s buggy. Then, with brief 
farewells, they parted, the boys leaving the doc- 
tor and his patient at a point where the two roads 
they were to follow branched off in a Y, one lead- 
ing over the steep slope of a range of foothills, 
beyond which lay the Winton and Chase ranches, 
the other continuing down the valley to the doc- 
tor’s home. 

As they topped the rise of the ridge they came 
upon a fire smoking at the side of the road. They 
were passing it without paying much attention 
to it, when Wing Lung shouted to them. The 
Chinaman had hastily thrown himself from his 
motor cycle and was on his knees by the embers 
examining them. 

‘Xookee here, quick, Massel Ned,” he ex- 
claimed, with vehemence. Clearly something was 


38 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

significant to the Chinaman about that fire which 
the boys could not fathom. 

“What is it, Wing Lung?'’ asked Ned, who 
well knew that the Chinee was not in the habit 
of exciting himself over trifles. 

“This fire built by Chinee,” exclaimed Wing 
Lung; “me heap sabe Chinee build fire allee 
samee way, no one else build him. Sick man he 
plentee 'flaid Chinee.” 

“You mean that you think the Chinaman that 
the injured man feared came by this way?” asked 
Ned eagerly. 

“Uh-huh; allee samee,” grinned Wing Lung, 
“me velly cleveh Chinee. See here, he use fire 
cookee gold.” 

He indicated a bit of tin with some dark stains 
on it, by the fire side. Near it were some scat- 
tered grains that looked like gold. 

“Great ginger, Tom,”. cried Ned, “that puts the 
injury of our friend back there clearly up to a 
Chinaman; maybe two or three of 'em. They 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 39 

came this way and stopped to test the supposed 
gold they had robbed from him/’ 

‘‘Regular Sherlock Holmes, aren’t you?” 
grinned Tom. “Well, what do you propose to 
do?” 

“Give notice to the authorities to apprehend 
any Chinamen they may see passing through this 
way.” 

“All right; your theory sounds good. Let’s 
push on home and get to a telephone.” 

But although a bright lookout was kept for the 
unknown Chinaman, or Chinamen, whom the 
boys suspected, no trace of any vagrant Mon- 
golians was found ; and during the next week the 
affair of the man in the gulch was almost forgot- 
ten in the formation of the “Riding Rovers,” a 
motor cycle touring club, the plans for which had 
busied the boys not a little since their return 
from the great Northwest. 


40 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


CHAPTER V. 

THE RIDING ROVERS. 

The Riding Rovers’ membership was not large, 
few boys in the vicinity being fortunate enough 
to possess motor cycles. But, besides Ned and 
Tom, four other lads belonged to the organiza- 
tion, which, as its prospectus set forth, had for 
its objects fostering of friendship , the pur- 
suit of exercise and good times awheel” This 
phrasing was of Tom’s authorship, and of it he 
was not a little proud. 

The four lads who, outside of Ned and Tom, 
belonged to the Riding Rovers, were all boys 
from Bayville, the harbor town. There was Nat 
Nichols, a round-faced, merry sort of youth; 
Joe Shortridge — otherwise Fatty, on account, of 
course, of his rotund form; A1 Anderson, a boy 
with an unfortunate proclivity for getting his 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 


41 


words twisted; and last but not least, except in 
size, Andy Bates, an unusually small lad for his 
age, sixteen, whose tongue ran away with him. 
In fact, from the rapidity of his speech he was 
usually known as '‘Rapid Fire Andy.’’ 

It was one evening not long after the Motor 
Cycle Chums’ discovery of the injured man in the 
dry arroyo, that the Riding Rovers had fore- 
gathered at the Winton ranch for a meeting to 
discuss plans for a forthcoming tour. A “Grand 
Tour” was what the rhetorical Tom Chase called 
it. Discussion was hot as to the direction the 
tour was to take. Some of the lads were for the 
mystic land of Lower California, with its canni- 
bal island of Tiburon and strange ranges and 
valleys. Another was for a trip toward Shasta 
and the upper parts of the state. Andy Bates, 
being the smallest, wished to take the longest 
trip. 

“Cross the continent — whizz-bang-never say 
die — New York — Boston — good time — home 


42 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


again — steamer — Panama/' exploded Andy, in 
explaining his plans. 

As for A1 Anderson, his preference was for 
Arizona. 

‘'Plenty of boycows, I mean cowboys, there,'’ 
he announced ; “gold mines, too, and Indian 
Apaches, I mean Apache Indians." 

“Yes, and sot hands, I mean hot sands,” 
mocked Nat Nichols teasingly, “and " 

But A1 looked so threateningly at him that he 
gave over further teasing, for the time at least. 

“Not much to eat in Arizona but rattlesnakes 
and tarantulas," objected the stout Joe Short- 
ridge. 

“Ho! ho! Hark at Fatty, always harping on 
the eats," came a mocking chorus, and the fat 
youth subsided. 

“Horned toads and hornets, what's the matter 
with just starting out and riding in one direction 
as far as we feel like going?" struck in Nat Nich- 


IX THE GOLD FIELDS 43 

ols. ''Greasers and grasshoppers, that would be 
fun! Bet we’d have lots of adventures.” 

It was at this moment that the telephone bell 
rang loudly. 

'‘Doctor mans says so be he likee talkee you, 
Massel Ned,” announced Wing Lung, who had 
answered it. 

Ned hastened to the wire. The doctor had for 
some days past been announcing an improvement 
in his patient; but he would not, so he said, al- 
low him to talk. Ned hailed this late message as 
being one of some importance, therefore, and he 
was not mistaken. After a short conversation 
he turned from the ’phone with a glowing coun- 
tenance. 

"Hurray, fellows!” he cried, "The Mystery” 
(this is what they had dubbed the injured man) 
"has been talking. Tom and myself are to be at 
the doctor’s first thing in the morning. He says 
he has something important to communicate to 


us. 


44 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


Every member of the Riding Rovers knew of 
'‘The Mystery/’ and each was almost as keenly 
interested in the man’s history and identity as the 
boys themselves. 

Following Ned’s announcement, the room 
fairly buzzed with excited talk. Every one of 
them felt as if he were on the verge of a discov- 
ery. In discussing the topic even the vexed ques- 
tion of which direction the tour should take was 
abandoned. Before they knew it the clock 
pointed to ten, the fixed hour for the breaking up 
of the Riding Rovers’ meetings. 

“Time to quit, boys,” announced President 
Ned, “but we’ll meet to-morrow night at seven 
at Nat Nichols’ home in town, and tell you all 
that we learned about the mystery — how’s that ?” 

A chorus of approval greeted him. The boys 
rose to their feet, and before parting gave the 
Riding Rovers’ cry in concert. It was not me- 
lodious, but what it lacked musically it made up 
in vim : 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


45 


‘‘Chug! Chug! C-h-u-g! — Chug! Chug! 
C-h-u-g!— RIDING ROVERS!— Chug ! Chug! 
C-h-u-g!’’ 

Right after breakfast the next morning the 
Red Streak and the Blue Bird whizzed out of the 
ranch gates, bound for Dr. Duncan’s. 

“Let’s take the shore road,” suggested Ned; 
“it doesn’t take much longer and on a morning 
like this it’s a lot nicer than riding through that 
dusty old valley.” 

“You’re on,” agreed Tom; “I always have an 
affection for that road, anyhow. I rode down 
it one day richer by five thousand dollars than 
what I had before, which was just nothing.” 

The boy referred to his capture of the “Sierra 
Wolf.” He had worn the tin badge of a dishon- 
est school of correspondence for young detect- 
ives — a concern to which Tom had sent almost 
his last money, under an entire misapprehension 
of its nature. When he found out that it was de- 
tective work that was advertised under the al- 


46 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

luring head of lucrative employment, there was 
not, perhaps, a more disgusted boy in the country 
than Tom Chase. Yet, in his case, evil had been 
turned to good, for with his tin badge — ^his sole 
return for his money — he had captured the ban- 
dit on whose head was a big reward. This money 
had saved Tom’s mother’s ranch from foreclos- 
ure and proved the foundation of a flourishing 
business. 

The shore road was a beautiful one. Among 
redwoods and pines it wound its way along a 
hillside towering above the blue Pacific. It was 
but little traveled, despite its beauty, being rough 
and very steep in places. But the boys made lit- 
tle of its condition. 

The Red Streak and the Blue Bird had been 
tried out on rougher roads and steeper grades. 
In the great Northwest both lads had pushed 
their machines over ground previously untrav- 
eled except by wiry teams or hardy horsemen. 
On their Round the World trip, too, they had 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 47 

triumphed over surprising obstacles. So it was 
that over grades that stout teams might have 
balked at they urged their powerful machines, 
the staccato rattle of the exhausts sounding like 
volleys of artillery. 

They had been riding along a stretch of road, 
skirting which a dense growth of woods hid the 
view on the seaward side. Suddenly emerging, 
they saw spread before them in all its shimmer- 
ing beauty the vast western ocean, beyond which 
lay China and the purple east. As if to fit in and 
harmonize with their thoughts, as they gazed 
westward across the blue expanse they suddenly 
became aware of a craft upon it. 

An odd enough looking vessel she was, too, 
though of a type not uncommon along the Pacific 
coast. Her three masts were stumpy affairs, the 
highest in the middle, and supported large ‘'lug’' 
sails. The hull, too, was of a queer type, with a 
high, sharp bow and squat stern with a clumsy- 
looking "house” superimposed upon it. 


48 THE. MOTOK CYCLE CHUMS 

‘‘A Chinese junk!’’ cried Tom, pointing. 

‘‘Well, nothing very odd in that. I guess she’s 
from that fishing village above San Pedro,” re- 
joined Ned. 

‘‘Yes; but look, there’s a boat rowing off to her 
from the shore.” 

“Landed for water or something, I suppose,” 
commented Ned, without particular interest. 

Had he known, however, who was on board the 
boat and what they had been about, he might 
have regarded the junk lying idly on the windless 
ocean with more concern. As it was, another 
wooded stretch shortly cut off their view of the 
sea and they thought no more of the matter. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


49 


CHAPTER VI. 

TOM FINDS A RFLATIVF. 

What looked like the ghost of a man lay 
propped up on pillows in an upper room of Dr. 
Duncan’s house. His face was gaunt and pale, 
and his hands, as they lay on the coverlet, 
strangely transparent and thin. But his eyes 
brightened with a glad light as they fell on the 
two boys when, dusty from their ride through 
the Lompos Valley, they entered the room with 
Dr. Duncan. 

''Chilvers,” said the doctor, ‘These are the two 
young men I was telling you about.” 

At the name of “Chilvers,” Tom Chase started 
a bit and looked curiously at the man before 
them, who, for his part, held out one of his 
wasted hands and smiled wanly. 

“I — I don’t know how to thank you,” he said. 


50 THE MOTOH CYCLE CHUMS 

“except in one way, and I'll come to that pres- 
ently. In the meantime, Tom Chase, does any- 
thing about the name Chilvers sound familiar 
to you?" 

“It was my mother's name," said Tom, in won- 
dering tones. 

“Exactly; and did you ever hear of Hugh 
Chilvers ?" 

“My uncle, who was lost long ago?" gasped 
Tom, sensing now what was to come. 

“My name is Hugh Chilvers," said the other 
simply; “I'm your uncle, Tom Chase, and that is 
how " 

“You came to have my name on that scrap of 
paper ! Has the doctor told you all that ?" choked 
out Tom, while Ned, too astonished to speak, 
stood regarding the scene with wide eyes. 

“That's just the way I happened to have your 
name written down, as you have guessed. In 
fact, I was on my way to your house when — 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 51 

when Sing Lee overtook me and what you know 
about happened.” 

''I — I don’t quite understand ” began Tom, 

in whom amazement had taken supremacy over 
all other feelings. 

^‘Exactly. I see you don’t. I’m going to ex- 
plain. You’ve heard your mother talk of me?” 

“Ye-es,” rejoined Tom, in a hesitating sort of 
way that made Ned stare. Well as he knew Tom, 
he had never heard him speak of any relative but 
his mother. 

‘‘Then you know that when quite young I was 
wild and headstrong and left home, and from 
that time to this have never communicated with 
any of my relatives?” 

Tom nodded. He was incapable of speech. 
Ned and the doctor, side by side, looked on while 
the wan man on the bed went on : 

“Well, I’ve knocked about all over the world 
since the time I went away. I’ve had bad luck 
and good; but the greatest piece of luck that ever 


52 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

came my way happened some six months ago. 
I’d tried my hand at mining in most parts of the 
world, and in Alaska I met a chap who told me 
of a wonderful mine somewhere in the Bitter 
Creek region of the Nevada Desert. That is a 
region that has been traveled by but few, and of 
those few a still smaller percentage ever came 
back to tell the tale.” 

They were listening intently now. Somehow 
the boys felt that they were on the verge of hear- 
ing something that in the near future would af- 
fect themselves tremendously. In this they were 
not far wrong. 

‘‘Well, this chap, Owens was his name, im- 
pressed me tremendously. He told of locating 
a mine of great wealth in the heart of this desert 
some years before. I’ll not go into details now of 
just how he found it, but at any rate an Indian 
to whom he had done a kindness told him the 
legend of the place, and Owens persuaded the 


IX THE GOLD FIELDS 


53 


man to accompany him into the heart of the Bit- 
ter Creek region on a mission of discovery. 

“They didn’t find the mine. Lack of water 
turned them back almost within sight of the 
range behind which the legend said it lay. The 
Indian died and Owens, more dead than alive, 
was picked up by a wandering party of prospec- 
tors after enduring hardships that would have 
killed most men. 

“The horrors of the trip back to civilization 
caused him to lose his nerve; in fact, he was half 
inclined to look upon the Indian’s story as a wild 
dream. For years he roamed about the world; 
but all the time he carried with him a roughly 
sketched map he had made of the route that they 
had come, and of the strange outline of the hills 
beyond which the Indian said lay a lost lake and 
the mine itself. 

“When I met him he had just made a big strike 
in the Klondike, and with prosperity there came 
back to him again the desire to locate the mine. 


54 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

I suppose it was the spirit of the pioneer, the 
craze for adventure, the — call it what you will, 
but all our early pathfinders possessed it — that 
ruled him. Owens had taken a great liking to 
me and he induced me to go into the scheme with 
him. 

'‘We went to Silver Bow, the nearest railroad 
station on the Nevada and South Eastern Utah 
road, and struck out into the desert. Owens’ 
map was a good one, and we got within striking 
distance of the place without trouble. Pushing 
on, we eventually reached the mine. It was lo- 
cated on a strange, tower-shaped butte, which 
stood beside a lake of alkaline water — a sort of 
Dead Sea. 

"There was no question, as we stood there and 
gazed about us, that the Indian legend was true. 
The mine had, at some inconceivably remote 
period, been worked, and worked by miners, too. 
We knew enough of the business to see that the 
galleries and shafts that honeycombed the butte 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 55 

were drilled by men who, however remote their 
age, understood the science of getting minerals 
out of the earth. 

was on fire to investigate the place, but our 
water had given out. In penetrating the desert 
we had used a four-horse team attached to a 
light spring wagon and trailing a big water tank. 
It was in much the same way that the borax 
teams used to reach Death Valley before they 
employed autos on the work. 

'‘When we found the mine but a few scant gal- 
lons remained in the tank. Our stock was put on 
as light an allowance as possible. As for our- 
selves, we hardly drank more than enough to 
keep body and soul together. But we had found 
the mine. That compensated for everything. As 
we stood there, gazing at it, I verily believe that 
we clean forgot all about getting back — that is, 
for a time. 

"Realizing our position, we postponed exam- 
ining the place further, but simply gathered up 


56 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

some good dust left in an old abandoned sluice 
cut in primitive fashion out of the living rock. 
Mixed with the dust were some nuggets, refined 
in some primitive way from the ore, a molder- 
ing pile of which lay not far from the sluice. 

‘‘Then we started back half wild with joy over 
our find. We were rich men, that is, if the in- 
terior of the mine was anything like as rich in 
ore as the ‘tailings’ without had led us to believe. 
But poor Owens never did get back. A fever, 
brought on maybe from drinking the half stale 
water in the tank, or the heat or something, over- 
took him. He died in my arms out there under 
the desert stars, and with his last breath told me 
to take up the search. With the map he gave me 
a bit of paper. 

“ ‘It’s my last will and testament,’ he said. 

“I took the paper, and after he had passed on 
the long trail and I had buried him as well as I 
could, I read it. It bequeathed the mine to me. 
The rest of his property went to some relatives 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 57 

up north. Well, the next day two of the horses 
died. I had to abandon the wagon, and, packing 
what water I could in canteens, I pushed on. 

“But, as luck would have it, the second day of 
my long ride to the outposts of humanity, the 
horse on which I had packed the canteens ran 
away as I was making camp. I never saw him 
again. There I was, out on that trackless desert, 
without water or the means of getting any. I 
guess I went mad for a while. Anyhow, I ran 
about screaming and waving my arms like a luna- 
tic. After a while, though, I came to my senses 
and mounting the remaining horse I rode on. 
That horse lasted just ten hours. Then he laid 
down, and in a short time was dead. He had 
been without water for almost a day and a half, 
and I had not spared him. I could not afford to. 
In the distance that I could make toward water 
lay my hope of life. 

“I left the dead horse behind and staggered 
on. The sun rose and beat down till my skin 


58 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


felt as dry as parchment. My mouth burned and 
my tongue appeared to swell till I could hardly 
breathe. Then must have come desert madness, 
for I knew nothing more till I found myself in a 
small shack with a Chinaman bending over me. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


59 


CHAPTER VII. 

A strange story. 

‘'He was a sinister looking individual, above 
the height of the average Chinaman and with a 
skin as yellow and dried as a bit of old ivory. 
However, I knew that in some way he must have 
saved me from the desert, so, unprepossessing 
as he was, I regarded him with gratitude. He 
brought me food and water, but would not let me 
talk till the next day. 

"Then he told me how I had been found reel- 
ing along the bank of an old gully where he and 
some fellow countrymen were working some 
abandoned claims. This is a common enough 
practice among Chinamen in that country. They 
are content to take what the white man leaves. 
It was to the shanty in which they lived that they 
had brought me. For twelve hours I had lain 


60 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

in a stupor, he said, and for a time they feared 

that I would die. 

“To make my story short, I lived with them 
for three days, till I got my strength back. I am 
naturally vigorous and by that time I was, though 
wasted and pale, almost my former self. It was, 
curiously enough, not until this time that I 
thought of looking to see if my gold dust and 
nuggets were secure. 

“I chose a time in the evening when the China- 
men were round the cooking fire outside to make 
my investigation. I have omitted to explain 
that, like most miners, I carried my specimens 
and so on in a belt. It’s a rough country and it 
doesn’t do to display wealth openly. Well, tak- 
ing my chance, as I’ve explained, I took off my 
belt and opened its various pockets. I found 
everything intact. Luckily the Chinamen had 
not suspected in me anything more than a desert- 
crazed prospector. 

“I was about to replace the belt when a shadow 


'IN THE GOLD FIELDS 61 

fell across the doorway, blocking the ruddy light 
from the fire outside. It was the big Chinaman 
Sing Lee, who had been the first to greet me 
when I recovered consciousness. 

“I had no way of knowing how long he had 
watched me, but I felt that if he had seen the gold 
or the map I was in a bad fix. He had three fel- 
low countrymen working with him, and in my 
weakened state I was no match for them, even 
had they been unarmed, which was unlikely. I 
wasn’t destined to be long in suspense about 
whether or no he had seen what my belt con- 
tained. 

“He gave a shrill cry and from outside his 
companions came running up. He spoke rapidly 
to them in Chinese. From the fact that he did 
not address me at all, I knew that I was in for a 
struggle. There was a rough and heavily built 
chair in the room. Before they could make a 
hostile move I snatched it up and, uttering a 
ferocious yell, rushed at them. 


62 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 

‘‘The big fellow went down like a nine-pin be- 
fore my onrush. The other three reached for 
weapons — knives or pistols, I don't know which 
— but before they could do anything I swung my 
chair and over they went too, squealing like so 
many pigs. I knew that outside they kept a ) 
wretched horse, and I made for the rough shed — ; 
the wreck of a former mining shack — where they ; 

f 

stabled it. I didn't wait for saddle or bridle, but i 
swung myself on its back and, guiding it with 
the halter, dashed out into the night. 

“A fusillade of bullets followed me, but by 
good luck none of them hit me — Chinamen being 
notoriously poor marksmen anyway. All that 
night I rode that poor old animal for all it could * 
do. By dawn I found myself at a ‘wooden' town v 
on the edge of a railroad track. Small as the : 
place was, though, it possessed a bank, and I 
traded in some of my gold dust for moftey. ' 
“I didn't stay there, but took the next train out, 1 
bound for San Francisco, for I was determined • 


IX THE GOLD FIELDS 63 

to get capital there and go back to that mine. 
Single-handed I could do nothing with it. Capi- 
tal alone could fit out the sort of expedition I 
required to reach it once more. I spent several 
weeks in San Francisco, but every capitalist to 
whom I went with my story laughed at me. 

“In fact, in that busy, bustling place, buzzing 
with street cars, blazing with electric lights, ho- 
tels and theaters, the Lost Mine and all connected 
w'ith it did indeed appear, even at times to myself, 
like a more or less fantastic dream. Then one 
night on Kearny Street I came face to face with 
Sing Lee. I recognized the man instantly. I 
saw by a flash in his eyes that he knew me, too. 

• But he made no sign. From that day on, how- 
ever, I knew that I was always followed by some 
impalpable shadow. Not a movement of mine 
went un watched. I dared not trust myself off 
the welj-lighted thoroughfares. From the fact 
that Sing Lee was following me so persistently 
I knew that he surmised that I had found a desert 


64 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

mine. From the specimens he had seen he must 
have known it was a rich one and that in all 
probability I carried a map or something of the 
kind with me. 

“If I could have recorded the mine I would 
have done so. But I could not, for I hadn't an 
accurate enough survey of it to file at the U. S. 
Assayers' office. Lacking the filing of a claim, 
the mine of course belonged to the first who re- 
corded it, and I knew that Sing Lee meant to be 
that first. 

“My second encounter with Sing Lee was on 
the steps of a bank. I knew then, or rather 
guessed it, that he had been seeking some white 
man's aid in his effort to force my secret from 
me. I looked at the name on the bank. It was 
Henderson & Co., a familiar enough name to me. 
I recognized the firm as having been connected 
with innumerable shady mining deals. Sing 
Lee's face was like a mask as he passed me, but 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 65 

I knew, as well as if I had heard the conversa- 
tion, what he had been to see the firm about. 

‘Hn the meantime my money was running 
lower and lower. I had traded in almost all my 
gold dust, but I still kept a little and one nugget, 
for it was all I had to prove my assertions. The 
map I had prudently left with a friend, whom I 
knew I could trust, the first night I reached 
’Frisco. It was when my finances were at the 
lowest ebb that I happened to see your name in 
the paper, Tom, as being one of a number of 
boys to form the pioneer motor cycle club of 
California. It printed your picture, too, and 
from your likeness to your mother I knew you 
must be my nephew. 

^T had heard of my sister’s marriage to Rem- 
ington Chase and knew that she was living in 
California, but although I had several times tried 
to locate her by newspaper personals, I had never 
succeeded. Now I was delighted at the chance 
to meet her once more, for, as you know, she is, 


66 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

except myself, the sole surviving member of our 
family. I determined to seek you out the next 
day. But on the train my pocket was picked, and 
when I reached the junction where I had to pur- 
chase another ticket for San Benito, I found that 
my resources were nil. 

''It was only a tramp of fifty miles or so, how- 
ever, and I had done more than that many a time 
in Alaska and other places. So I set out on foot. 
I had no idea that I was being followed, but such 
must have been the case, for as I was crossing 
that valley where you found me I heard stealthy 
footsteps behind me. Looking round, I saw Sing 
Lee and two other Chinamen. Before I could 
make a move to defend myself one of them 
brought down a club on the back of my head with 
terrific force. Once more he struck me and 
everything went black. That’s all I know till I 
woke up here and the doctor told me about all 
that had happened. As for the bit of paper, 
which he told me puzzled you so much, I wrote 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 67 

your name on it before I left San Francisco and 
placed it in my pocket/’ 

‘'But the gold dust?” asked Tom, waking up 
from the spell into which the strange narrative 
had cast him. 

“You mean the brass dust,” smiled his uncle, 
“and the brass nugget? That was a little trick 
of mine to fool those Chinese in case they ever 
did rob me. I obtained the filings and the brass 
nugget from my friend with whom I left the 
map. He is an engineer. As for the real nug- 
gets and gold dyst, I hid them in my shoes. The 
doctor will tell you that they are the genuine ar- 
ticle.” 

“They are as fine specimens as I have ever 
seen,” declared the doctor, to whom Hugh Chil- 
vers had, of course, previously related his story. 

“But — but don’t the Chinamen know that they 
have been fooled?” demanded Ned. 

“They may by this time,” was the miner’s re- 


68 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

ply, ‘‘but at any rate the map is in safe hands. 

They cannot touch that.’’ 

The doctor at this juncture forbade his patient 
to say more. The boys followed him from the 
room after Tom had bade an affectionate fare- 
well to his newly found uncle and promised to 
telegraph his mother in the East all about the 
strange happenings attending his return. 

“Mr. Chilvers says that he is sure the Chinese 
have been thrown off the trail,’’ the doctor ob- 
served, when they were seated on the porch, “but 
I am by no means so sure. He argues that be- 
cause they found no map on him, they will con- 
clude that one does not exist. I am not so sure 
of this. They would not have followed him so 
persistently or resorted to the lengths they have, 
unless they had some strong reasons — a motive 
stronger than a few pinches of gold dust.” 

The boys agreed with their friend and then 
the recollection of the junk suddenly flashed 
across Ned’s mind. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 69 

‘‘Do you think there was anything suspicious 
in that?’’ he asked the doctor when he had told 
him of what they had seen that morning. 

“I don’t know. But of one thing I am certain 
— we have not heard the last of Sing Lee and hfls 
precious companions,” was the grave rejoinder. 

As the boys were leaving late that afternoon 
with a promise to return the next day, the doctor 
thrust some papers into Ned’s hands. 

“I forgot to deliver these to Mr. Chalmers, my 
real-estate agent in Bayville, yesterday,” he said, 
“and it is important that they reach him to-day. 
As you lads are going to- attend the meeting of 
the Riding Rovers in town to-night, will you see 
that he gets them?” 

“We’ll be glad to,” said Ned, as he thrust the 
papers into his pocket. 

“What was that?” cried Tom suddenly at the 
same instant. 

“What?” asked both his astonished listeners. 

“Over there !” cried Tom, pointing to a shrub- 


70 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


bery of Cherokee roses. “Fm sure I saw some- 
thing move, or rather dart away.’’ 

“Nonsense,” laughed the doctor; “I’ll have to 
give you something for your nerves. Master 
Tom. It must have been the breeze down the 

>} 

canyon.” 

Tom said no more about the matter; but to 
himself he repeated his assertion: 

“Something moved and darted off as the doctor 

handed those papers to Ned. I’m sure of it as i 

] 

I am that I’m a foot high,” he murmured stub- I 
bornly as he and Ned “tuned up” their machines. ^ 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


71 


CHAPTER VIIL 

INTO TROUBTI:. 

It was a pleasant evening and the boys rode 
leisurely along, drinking in the cool air, refresh- 
ingly crisp with the breeze from the Pacific, 
which at that time of the day and year makes the 
California coast a place of delight. Naturally 
enough as they rode they discussed the strange, 
almost extravagant, story they had heard. 

‘‘And to think that Hugh Chilvers is my uncle, 
Ned!’’ exclaimed Tom wonderingly. “I can 
hardly believe that it isn’t all a dream.” 

“It’s no dream, Tom, old boy, and what’s more. 
I’m willing to bet the hole out of a doughnut 
that before you are much older you’ll be off 
across the Nevada desert in search of that lost 
mine. I saw your eyes light up as your uncle 
talked of it.” 


72 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

“That’s a fact, Ned. What an adventure that 
would be! Think of that old aboriginal mine 
lying unworked all these years and discovered 
again by the act of a grateful Indian. It’s like 

I 

a fairy tale.” ' 

“And yet Mr. Chilvers is not, I should judge, 
a man given to imagining things.” 

“Rather the other way, as it impressed me,” 
rejoined Tom. “I don’t doubt but that before 
long he will be a rich man.” 

“Yes, and then his sole desire, so he said, 
would be to make things as nice as possible for 
you and your mother to make up for his long 
years of silence and neglect,” rejoined Ned, re- 
ferring to a part of the conversation at Dr. Dun- 
can’s that we have not recorded. 

“I guess mother will be more interested in find- ^ 
ing her brother once more than in the prospect of 
any wealth he means to settle on her,” was Tom’s 
reply. “How often she has talked of him ! J 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


73 


What a surprise she will have when she gets my 
telegram 

'‘Let’s ride round by San Benito and send a 
night-letter to her. You can say almost as much 
as in a letter, and it goes by wire.” 

“That’s a good idea, Ned. Let’s do that. 
After all, it won’t take us much out of our way, 
and there’s a moon to-night, too, so that we shall 
have a pleasant ride home.” 

As Tom had observed, it was not a long ride 
into San Benito and before long they were whiz- 
zing through the single street of the little town. 
A bright light shone on the sign of the Western 
Union Telegraph Company’s office and presently 
both boys were within, bending their heads to- 
gether over a joint composition which strove to 
comprise within the limits of a “night letter” 
all that Tom had to tell. 

It was not an easy task to condense it all, but, 
at length, they had set down, on the blanks pro- 
vided, a fairly comprehensive account of what 


74 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

had occurred. This done, they lost no time in 
filing the dispatch and setting off once more 
for home. 

‘‘Will you ever forget the time that Ben Bell 
stove holes in our gasolene tanks?'' asked Tom, 
as they sped past the shed in which the two motor 
cycles had been stored on that memorable occa- 
sion. 

“Not likely. Particularly the incidents that 
followed it, — that rope across the road and the 
big boulder he hurled down on us." 

“That led to some exciting adventures, old fel- 
low." 

“It did, indeed." 

“I wonder will we ever have any more like 
them." 

“I hope so — that is, part of them." 

“That's right. Part of the time we had pretty 
strenuous work with that precious outfit." 

“But still, it's all good fun to look back on." 

“To tell you the truth. I'm getting rather tired 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 


75 


of sticking round at ifOine/' resumed Tom after 
a pause. 'Tt isn’t as if I could be useful. The 
boss of the ranch knows so much more than I 
do that I feel it would be presumption in me 
try to maice any suggestions, and the place is pay- 
ing .finely, too.” 

‘'When are you going to college, Tom?” asked 
Ned presently. 

“Next year. So are you.” 

“Yes, to Leland Stanford. But, in the mean- 
time, I find that time hangs heavy on my hands, 
too.” 

“Same here. I wivSh we <^ould get up some sort 
of a trip.” 

“So do I. L<et’& get together and we’ll fix 
things up for the Riding Rovers to make a grand 
tour.” 

“Like we were talking about last night? 
Well, it will all come up at the meeting to-night.” 

“The trouble is to get the fellows to agree on 
one place.” 


76 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

“Uve got a place in mind/’ 

“You have?” 

“Yes; Fve been thinking about it for the last 
hour.” 

“Funny, I had an idea of a good destination , 
for a trip of that kind, too.” 

“Wonder if we were thinking of the same ! 
thing?” ! 

“Maybe ; where were you planning to go ?” ■ 

“Where were you?” 

Both boys intuitively guessed each other’s 
thoughts at the same instant. Their lips parted ^ 
in a jubilant shout. 

“The Lost Mine!” 

f' 

At the moment of their discovery that they 
had been thinking of the same thing, the two boys J 
were turning into the road that led across a rise i* 
to the Winton ranch. The track was a steep one, ^ 
and the necessity of applying more spark and | 
gas for the time being checked further conversa- 1 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 77 

The road climbed steadily upward among for- 
ests of sweet smelling redwood and mandrono 
brush, interspersed here and there with clumps 
of fragrant mountain laurel. It was like riding 
through a sweet-scented tunnel. Overhead the 
trees met and formed an arch that made the 
comparison an apt one. 

Puffing steadily, the two motor cycles climbed 
the rise. 

“Cracky, Tom, the old Red Streak and Blue 
Bird are doing themselves proud to-night,” ob- 
served Ned presently. 

“Yes, they're dandy old machines.” 

“That's right, I wouldn't change mine for the 
finest one built.” 

“Mine is the finest one built,” declared Tom 
with deep conviction. 

“Both of them have carried us into and out of 
many adventures.” 

“They surely have, and I hope that they'll carry 


us into many more.” 


78 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

Had Tom been a prophet of old, his words 
could not have been more significant of events 
that were to come to pass almost immediately. 

Through interstices in the interlaced branches 
above their heads, the yellow moon shone down 
brightly, making a brilliant patchwork of black 
and white on the dusty road. At last they topped 
the hill, and through the end of the woodland 
tunnel they saw stretched out before them the 
Pacific. The moon was blazing a brilliant trail 
of silver across the placid water. 

''What's that dark object afloat out there?" 
asked Ned as his eyes traveled with delight over 
the wondrously beautiful scene. 

"What? Oflf there to the north, right in the 
path of the moonlight?" 

"Yes; that's it." 

"Why, it's — it's that Chinese junk again!” 

"So it is. I wonder " 

But just what Ned wondered was destined 
never to be known, for, at that instant, several 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 79 

dark forms glided as if by magic from both sides 
of the road. In a flash Ned saw that they were 
Chinamen. In the moonlight their yellow faces, 
flat noses and slit eyes looked terribly repulsive. 

‘‘Ride, Tom! Ride for your life!’’ cried Ned, 
sensing, he knew not just how, that danger men- 
aced them. 

Tom applied power at Ned’s word, and both 
engines crackled and roared like machine guns. 
But as the motor cycles sprang forward like live 
things, they suddenly halted and wobbled. At 
the same instant came sharp sounds like revolver 
shots, followed by an ominous hissing. 

“The tires have gone! They’ve strewn glass 
on the road!” cried Ned. 

Before he could say more, he felt himself 
seized and something thrown over his head. As 
its soft folds enveloped him and he felt his hands 
being tied, he heard as if in a dream a muffled 
cry from Tom, which was checked as abruptly as 
it began. 


80 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 

So totally unexpected, so utterly inexplicable 
was the attack, that Ned, as he felt himself hur- 
ried away, found himself wondering if he were 
awake, or if he should not presently wake up in 
bed and find himself the victim of a nightmare. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


81 


CHAPTER IX. 

IN the: dark. 

Presently to Ned’s nostrils came a sickly, 
cloying odor that made him choke up. He strug- 
gled to wave away whatever it was that was 
being held close to his face, from outside the 
bag; but his hands were tightly tied, a fact 
which he had forgotten till that instant. Fight 
against the strange aroma as he would he felt 
it overpowering him. It reminded him of some 
gas that he once had taken at a dentist’s when 
a recalcitrant tooth had to be removed. 

In a dreamy maze Ned felt his senses waver; 
he knew that he began to sway dizzily and that 
somebody caught him up and lifted him from 
the ground. A wave of nausea engulfed him 
and then, with a fearful roaring in his ears, like 
the rumble of a heavy train across a trestle, the 


S'2 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

lad’s senses went out. The last thing he recol- 
lected was being hurried forw^ard over the 
ground by somebody who had picked him up. 

How much later it was that he awoke he did 
not know. He found himself in pitchy darkness 
and lying on what, to his investigating fingers, 
felt like a coarse mat of some sort. A heavy, 
stuflfy smell was in the air and Ned’s head ached 
intolerably. His wrists, too, pained him, and it 
was in thinking about them that he suddenly re- 
called all that had occurred just previous to 
his strange abduction. 

It all came back distinctly to him: the ride 
through the leafy tunnel, the shimmering pano- 
rama of the moonlit Pacific, the sudden glimp- 
sing of the apparitions that arose, as if by magic, 
from the deeper shadows at the roadside, and 
then the mad burst of speed and the collapse of 
the tires. Then came the recollection of the 
sweet, cloying smell, of his brief ineffectual 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 83 

Struggle against the overpowering fumes, and 
then a blank which he could not supply. 

But where could he be? Rising to his feet, he 
staggered dizzily about for a minute till his head 
became clearer. Then, with hands extended, he 
began blundering about in the darkness. 

It. was more than darkness. It was so black 
that it could actually be felt, like an odd, vel- 
vety touch. Some of you may have felt the 
same thing on getting up in a dark room. 

‘Well, if this doesn’t beat all,” mused Ned, as 
for an instant he stood still, after vainly trying 
to find some finite bounds to the blackness that 
encompassed him. 

“So far as I know, I haven’t an enemy in this 
part of the country, and yet here are Tom and 
I kidnapped like this for no earthly reason that 
I can think of.” 

He paused, trying to steady his nerves and 
think clearly, for his head hurt him intolerably. 

“Tom? Let’s see; I heard him call out and 


84 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

then — it’s no use, I cannot recall any more. I 

wonder if he is in this place, too.” 

Determined to put the matter to a test, Ned 
raised his voice. 

^'TomT he cried, at first cautiously. 

His voice rang hollowly back at him, but no 
reply came. Growing bolder he gave a louder 
cry : 

“Tom r 

Still no answer. 

“Tom can’t be here,” mused the lad, and then 
forcing his voice to its highest pitch he sent it 
ringing into the close blackness: 

“TOM!” 

He paused a second, but, like his previous ef- 
fort, this final shout produced no answer. Ned 
began to feel an odd sensation of alarm. A sort 
of chill crept up and down his backbone. He felt 
his scalp tighten. It was as if he had been buried 
alive and awakened in some vault. An odd. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 85 

musty sort of smell in the air enhanced the illu- 
sion. 

“Wherever can I be?’’ cried Ned in sheer des- 
peration. He set off once more through the 
blackness, keeping his hands stretched out in 
front of him. Suddenly he collided with a wall. 
He felt it up and down and then tapped it. It 
echoed as hollowly as had his voice in that dark 
place. 

“It’s wood,” whispered Ned to himself in a 
low voice. 

“ ’s-wood !” his words went echoing off be- 
hind him. Ned decided then and there not to 
voice his thoughts any more. The sound of that 
whispering, muttering echo was too much for 
even his ordinarily stout nerves. 

Ned felt along the wall cautiously till, by 
counting the corners, he made sure that he must 
have walked around the entire apartment, which 
he judged, by his sense of touch, to be square. 
Apparently also, judging from the hollow sound 


8G THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS J 

a voice made within it, the chamber, or whatever : 

i 

it was, was empty. It rang just like an empty 
house. And yet somehow Ned had a feeling that 
he was not in a house. 

Determining, however, to put the question to 
a test by seeing if he could encounter any furni- 
ture, he set off courageously into the blackness 
once more. As nearly as he could estimate his 
course lay across the center of the place. 

Suddenly Ned brought up with a jerk, urged 
by he knew not just what instinct. Dropping to 
his hands and knees he cautiously felt in front 
of him. 

A sharp chill of horror ran through him and 
his throat contracted dryly, as the next instant I 
he realized that only Providence had saved him 
from taking a plunge into he knew not what 
depths of space. In front of him the floor ended 
abruptly and some sort of . trap-door yawned. 
One step more and, had it not been for his mys- 
terious intuition of danger, Ned must have 


IX THE GOLD FIELDS 87 

plunged through it. Of course he had no means 
of knowing just how far he would have fallen, 
but the thought of plunging into those unknown 
depths threw him into a cold perspiration. 

Mastering his momentary panic, Ned started 
back for the friendly wall. He resolved to try 
no more exploring tours. He must have missed 
his way, however, for on his return progress his 
foot encountered a soft mass on the floor. 

In some alarm Ned jumped back. He had no 
idea what it could be that his foot had struck. 
It had an odd sort of soft, yielding feeling. He 
was not to remain long in suspense. The hollow 
echoes of the place were suddenly set in motion 
by a low groan. 

''Oh, Jee-hos-ophat, but Fm sick!’’ came a 
voice. 

"Tom!” cried Ned, realizing now that it was 
his chum’s recumbent form that he had stumbled 


across. 


88 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

Through the darkness Tom’s voice came back 
drowsily. 

“Why, it’s Ned! Strike a light, Ned! It’s— 
SAY ! where in the world are we ?” 

“I’ve no idea, Tom. Don’t you recall being 
stopped and carried off?” 

“Oh, say, I do now. Gracious, but my head 
aches ! They gave me some stuff that put me to 
sleep, I guess.” 

“They did the same to me. Say, Tom, have 
you got a match?” 

The question was a momentous one: Although 
we have not mentioned it, of course Ned had 
long since searched in vain for a lucifer. A 
pause followed his question. It was plain that 
Tom was searching his pockets. At last came a 
triumphant cry. 

“I’ve found three in my coat pocket.” 

“Tom, you’re a jewel! Give them to me.” 

“Where are you, anyhow ? I can’t see a 
thing.” 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 89 

“Nor can I. Just wave your hand about. Our 
hands will meet if we keep it up long enough.'’ 

Both boys extended their arms to full length 
and began feeling about in the inky blackness. 
At last their fingers met. Tom slipped the pre- 
cious three matches into Ned's keeping. 

“Now, then, light up, old fellow, and let's see 
where we are." 

“All right; but I'm going to be precious care- 
ful. You know what always happens to the fel- 
low who has only one match left." 

Sputter ! Flash ! 

A yellow flame glared up and illumined the 
blackness. Bit by bit, as Ned held the precious 
sliver of pine wood aloft, the dark recesses of 
the place leapt out of the shadows. A simulta- 
neous shout of astonishment burst from both 
boys. 

“W^re on board a ship!" 


90 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


CHAPTER X. 
rut search begins. 

The Riding Rovers waited at Nat Nicli(>Is’ 
house till long past the hour at which Ned and 
Tom had promised they would put in an appear- 
ance. 

“Scorpions and succotash!” vociferated Nat at 
length, “this is the first time those chaps ever dis- 
appointed us.” 

“Maybe they stopped to eat on the way,” sug- 
gested Joe Shortridge hungrily. 

“Gracious, Fatty, is that the only thing you can 
think of that would delay anybody?” demanded 
Nat. 

“Tires bust — pop! bang! — stop to fix — off 
again — soon here!” exploded Andy in a series of 
gasps. 

“That’s more likely, Andy,” allowed A1 An- 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 91 

derson, ‘Tusted hires — I mean, busted tires — take 
quite a time to fix/’ 

“Well, we’ll wait a while,” announced Nat, 
“and then if they don’t show up — carburetors or 
corn fritters, I’m going to bed.” 

But half an hour passed and then an hour, 
during which they discussed their latest expe- 
riences with their motor cycles, but still no Ned 
or Tom arrived. 

“Raisins and rattlesnakes, but I don’t like the 
look of this,” declared Nat at length. “Tell you 
what, fellows, I’m going to call up the Winton 
ranch and see if they know anything about them 
there.” 

Accordingly, he left the room, but returned a 
few minutes later with a blank face. 

“I had Wing Lung on the ’phone,” he an- 
nounced, “but he says that they haven’t been 
there, nor have they sent any message.” 

“Mighty funny,” commented Joe Shortridge; 
“haven’t they been home for supper even ?” 


92 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 

*‘No!” snapped out Nat. 

''Tell you what — call doctor — went there — ^hell 
know!’" Thus Andy Bates in his usual "fire- 
cracker” way. 

"Not a bad idea, Andy, Fll do it,” said Nat. 

But this proved to be as blank a lead as the 
other. All the doctor could tell them was that 
their two chums had left his house some hours 
ago, and should certainly have been heard from 
by that time. Nat began to look really worried. 
He knew that the two Motor Cycle Chums were 
strong, self-reliant lads, but still, hold-ups were 
things not unknown in that part of the country, 
and he felt that something of the sort might have I 
happened to his two friends. 

"We’ll call this meeting off now,” he an- j 
nounced, after the case had been discussed at] 
some length, "but we’ll meet in the morning and] 
find out what’s become of them.” J 

"Sorry — can’t come — work in store — father] 


12^ THE GOLD FIELDS 93 

needs me/’ sputtered Andy, who helped out in his 
father’s general store. 

'‘Same here,” announced Joe regretfully; "big 
mail to-morrow. I’ve got to work hard.” 

Joe’s father kept a hardware establishment in 
which was located the post office, and it was one 
of Joe’s duties to aid in sorting the mail on 
"heavy days.” 

"Then it’ll be you and me Al,” declared Nat, 
turning to Al Anderson. 

Al nodded. 

"I’ll be here on the Freen Glyer — I mean the 
Green Flyer — at eight o’clock sharp,” he said. 

"All right. I’ll have the Road Runner tuned 
up and waiting,” rejoined Nat. 

At the appointed hour next morning Al came 
chugging into the Nichols’ yard on a green two- 
cylindered machine. Nat was waiting for him 
with his Road Runner, a powerful motor cycle 
painted black with nickel trimmings. 

"I’ve had the doctor on the ’phone this morn- 


I 


94 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS ] 

ing already/' Nat announced after the two lads ! 
had exchanged greetings. course I called ! 

the Winton ranch first. That Chinee is half j 
crazy. The boys haven't showed up all night." j 
A1 drew a long face. f 

‘‘Gee Whitakers! What can have happened?" 
he gasped. ; 

“Don’t know. It's up to us to find out. The I 
local police force has been notified, but — ham- ) 
mocks and handcuffs — they couldn't detect the 
fleas on a hound dog." 

“Well, what did the doctor say?" asked Al, 
ignoring this thrust at the local authorities. ■’ 

“That the boys had left his house about dusk , 
last night. He thought they were going to San \ 
Benito to send a night letter to Tom's mother ; 
about an amazing discovery — I’ll tell you about y 
that later. After that he was pretty sure that K 

A. 

they meant to take the branch road home, have / 

V‘ 

supper and come on to the meeting." y 

“Let's call up the Western Union Office at Ban | 

f 

I 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 95 

Senito — I mean San Benito — and find out if they 
were really there at all.’’ 

‘‘That’s the idea. Just take a look at my ma- 
chine and see that she’s all right while I run in 
and ’phone.” 

Nat was out again in a few seconds looking 
more puzzled than ever. 

“They were there, all right,” he said, “and sent 
a night letter east.” 

“Then we’d better search the other road for a 
trace of them.” 

“Just what I was going to propose. Come on, 
Al, we’ve got to get a wiggle on us.” 

The two motor cycles sped smoothly out of 
the yard and through the streets of the little 
town. Time was, when the lads on their swiftly 
moving machines created all sorts of excitement. 
But that was all past now. Hardly any one on 
the streets gave them more than a passing look 
as they sped quickly by. A close observer, how- 
ever, would have noticed that on this day the 


96 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


face of each motor cycle boy wore a look of ex- 
ceptional and almost grim determination. 

Half an hour later they were standing, dis- 
mounted, at the entrance to the leafy tunnel 
where Ned and Tom had met with their adven- 
ture the night before. Trampled brush, a glass- 
strewn road and footsteps in all directions indi- 
cated plainly enough that a struggle of some sort 
had taken place there. Suddenly, back in the 
brush a gleam of scarlet caught Nat’s sharp eye. 
He plunged into the scrub growth and an instant 
later announced with a shout that he had found 
the two motor cycles — the Blue Bird and the Red 
Streak. 

‘‘Something terrible must have happened to 
Ned and Tom,” he gasped out as he stood once 
more by Al’s side. “Sugar and centipedes, I 
can’t make it out at all ! Did you find any trace 
of their fate, or a clew to their whereabouts in 
the road, Al?” 

Al, who had been industriously searching about 


i 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


97 


in the trampled dust of the road, shook his head. 

“Nothing,” he said; “it looks as if ” he 

broke off suddenly and listened intently. 

“What’s that?” demanded Nat, whose ears 
also caught the sound that had arrested Al’s at- 
tention. 

“It’s a cotor mycle — I mean a motor cycle,” 
he said. 

“Coming this way, too. My, whoever it is is 
putting on speed! Who can it be?” 


98 


THE MOTOK CYCLE CHUMS 


CHAPTER XL 

A MONGOLIAN DETECTIVE). 

They were not left long in doubt. Round the 
corner, his loose blue blouse and trousers flap- 
ping in the wind like ultramarine sails, came 
Wing Lung on his ‘‘pop-pop bike/' His ordi- 
narily mask-like countenance was agitated, and 
as he saw the boys he gave a shout. 

“You findee them — so be?" 

“No; but we've found their machines, Wing," 
responded Nat in an agitated voice. 

“Hum! You waitee minute — so be." 

The Chinaman brought his machine to a stop 
and deftly dismounted, leaning the old “one- 
lunger," which was tied up with tape and string, 
carefully against a tree. 

“You stoppee there one piece time, Lattel- 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


99 


snake/' he said, addressing the ramshackle old 
affair. 

“Rattlesnake?" demanded Nat questioningly. 
“Dates and dictionaries, where did you get that 
name?" 

“Him allee timee lattle, lattle, lattle, then go 
likee one stleak blue blazee. Me callee him lattle- 
snake — so be," announced Wing, without a smile. 

He cast his keen, slit-like eyes rapidly over the 
ground. In every direction among the trampled 
tracks he ran. Like a sleuth hound, his snub 
nose close to the ground, he circulated, observing 
everything. Finally he straightened up with a 
look of triumph. 

“Me sabee," he declared. “Chinamen, they 
takee boys." 

“Chinamen! What in the world would they 
take them for?" gasped Nat. “Noodles and nico- 
tine, you'll have to think up something better 
than that." 

“Me no foolee," declared Wing Lung indig- 


100 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
nantly, “you lookee here. One piecee track. 
Wear shoe allee same Chinaman.’' 

“That’s so,” Nat was forced to admit; “see 
here, Al, some of these tracks are just like the 
ones Wing makes with his shoes.” 

“Sulest thing you knowee,” grinned Wing. 

He began running hither and thither, and • 
finally made a dart for the edge of the clifif. 
Down it he climbed, the boys following him, 
clinging to brush, finding a foothold on rocks and 
finally reaching the bottom none the worse for a 
few scratches. As they reached the foot of the 
cliff. Wing gave a cry of triumph. In the sand 
they saw the prints of many unmistakably Chi- 
nese feet. The odd-shaped tracks identified them 
beyond a doubt. 

Wing’s next discovery was the place where the 
Chinamen’s boat had lain. 

“Lilly boat, he lie here one piece time, so be,” 
he declared, indicating a spot in the sand, where 
a small boat’s keel had grated. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


101 


‘'You think they were carried off in a boat?’^ 
asked Nat, who, by this time, was beginning to 
have quite a respect for the Chinese's powers as 
a detective. 

“Lilly boat catchum. Take them by big boat,’' 
rejoined Wing. “Mee velly cleveh Chinee, so be.” 

“But what good does it do us to know that 
they were carried off in a big boat, if we don’t 
know where they are now?” protested Nat. 
“Rudders and roller skates, I don’t see that we 
are much further than when we started.” 

Wing Lung laid one long-nailed finger at the 
side of his putty nose. He smiled a smile of 
Oriental cunning. 

“You waitee one piecee,” he said! “no hully. 
You sabee San Pedro, allee samee Chinee fish- 
men lib there?” 

“Yes, it’s about ten miles north of here,” re- 
joined Nat. “Why?” 

“We takee lilly lide there.” 

“You think they have taken the boys there?” 


102 THE MOTOll CYCLE CHUMS | 

no sabee. We go see. Maybe there, ^ 
maybe not there. We findee out one piece quick.” | 
“Can’t be too quick for me,” declared Al, start- ^ 
ing back up the cliff. * 

A short time later the oddly assorted trio, the ; 
two boys and the Chinaman, were racing over 
the level road that led north toward the marshes i 
and salt meadows, amid which the village of 
San Pedro was located. It was rather a remark- 
able place, this San Pedro. In the early days, as . 
its name indicated, it had been a mission town. 
The ruins of the mission, put there by the old 
padres, still remained; but the town itself had 
long since been abandoned by all but Chinese 
fishermen, who, with Italians, monopolized the 
industry on that part of the California coast. As 
has been said, their junks — for they will use no 
other type of boat — form a common feature of ♦ 
the waterscapes thereabouts. 

In due time, the three motor cyclists came | 
within view of the desolate stretch of salt mead- ( 




IN THE GOLD FIELDS 103 

ows, intersected by deep salt-water creeks, that 
surround San Pedro. The village itself is on an 
island, on which the old mission forms a promi- 
nent object of the landscape. The island lies 
back about half a mile from the sea, and is sur- 
rounded by a creek which at high water only is 
navigable. At low tide the junks of the fisher- 
men lie picturesquely in the mud. 

Beyond the salt meadows, which were spotted 
with grass hummocks, lay a range of sand dunes 
like miniature mountains, full of valleys and hills, 
with stiff, spiky grass covering them instead of 
trees. Beyond the dunes again lay the Pacific, 
with the brown sails of one or two junks visible 
in the distance. The village itself, a huddle of 
ruinous shacks, fish nets and piles of rotting 
debris, lay on the other side of the island from 
where the motor cyclists stood regarding it. 

It was a dreary outlook. Although the sun 
shone brightly, the salt meadows, which stretched 
far back inland between two steep ranges of 


104 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
rocky hills, looked dismal and forsaken. Not a 
sign of life was to be seen. The ruined mission 
on the summit of the island and the junks far out 
at sea were the only evidences of human life 
within sight. 

‘'Now we hide pop-pop bikees and then we 
think what we do next,’' declared Wing Lung. 

The boys obeyed without demur. In fact, this 
“cleveh Chinee,” as he modestly called himself, 
was beginning to appear to them in a new light. 
He had shown himself to be a skillful, self-re- 
liant general, and they waited with anxiety — 
after they had concealed the motor cycles in some 
brush — to hear what he had to say next. When 
he did speak he astonished them. 

“You takee bikees. Back along that load you 
findee one piece five, six mile, lilly town. Go one 
store by. Catchee plentee eat. Clackers, cannee 
meat, eblyt’ing. Then you comee back here. 
Hide bikees. Waitee.” 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


105 


“Why, are we going to be here a long time?” 
asked A1 in some wonderment. 

“Maybe. Me no sabee. Bimeby you get hun- 
gly. Want eat. Must hab glub. You go catch. 
Then come back. You sabee?” 

Nat nodded, v 

“But what are you going to do, Wing?” he 
asked, puzzled at the Chinaman’s attitude, al- 
though it was plain enough that he had formed 
some plan. 

“Me go by one piece San Pedlo. Find out 
number one chop if boys be there. You get glub. 
Come back here, waitee me. No talk no one.” 

Before they could speak he was off, gliding in 
and out among the coarse salt grass like a snake. 
The last thing they heard him say was, as if to 
himself : 


“Me velly cleveh Chinee.” 


106 


THE MOTOK CYCLE CHUMS 


CHAPTER XIL 
A strange: prison. 

The match that Ned had lighted flickered and 
died out, plunging the two lads once more into 
darkness. But during the brief illumination of 
the place of their imprisonment, Ned had cast 
anxious eyes about for the hole down which he 
had so narrowly escaped tumbling. It was a 
hatchway about six feet square in the middle of 
the “hold,’’ for from what they could judge that 
was the part of the ship in which they were con- 
fined. 

Following the dying out of the match, which 
Ned had held till it scorched his fingers, came an 
anxious consultation. Would it be wise to light 
another and reconnoiter the place more thor- 
oughly, or was it their best plan to wait on in 
the darkness till somebody came? They finally 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 107 

decided to risk the chance of wasting another 
match. Both felt that they could endure the 
darkness better if they had a more comprehensive 
idea of their surroundings. 

Accordingly, Ned kindled another lucifer. As 
it flared up, Tom gave a cry of joy and darted 
for a niche in the beamed and timbered wall. 

‘‘Look, Ned,’’ he cried, “if this isn’t luck!” 

He held out a candle, a thick yellow affair of 
tallow, probably left in the hold the last time 
cargo had been stowed. They lost no time in 
lighting it, and it was wonderful what a cheering 
effect it had on their spirits. 

“Now for a good look about the place,” cried 
Ned, holding the guttering “dip” above his head. 

But the steadier and stronger light did not 
show much that the match had not revealed. 
Heavy timbers, evidently ribs, ran at regular in- 
tervals up the planked sides of their prison place. 
And now they noticed that in a bulkhead at one 
end was a door. 


108 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

'Trobably locked/’ commented Tom, “but we’ll 
leave that till later. Now let’s have a look down 
into that hole you almost fell into,” for Ned had 
related to his chum this part of his adventures. 

Peering over the edge they gazed down into 
the hole. The rays of the candle revealed a dark 
pit, through which heavy timbers, converging to- 
ward a central point, were easily discernible. 

“That must be a lower hold, and that heavy 
timber is the keel,” decided Ned. “The point 
now is, what kind of a ship are we on?” 

“Well, not on one manned by any friends of 
ours, that’s certain,” declared Tom rather grimly. 

“No; but, look here, Tom, there’s a ladder 
leading into that lower hold, for I’m sure that’s . 
what it is. What do you say if we climb down 
and take a look about us?” 

“Just what I was going to suggest. We might 
find some way to get out. At any rate, it can’t 
do any harm.” 

The two lads cautiously clambered down the 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 109 

ladder and^ for an instant, paused midway in 
alarm. From the dark recesses of that lower 
hold had come a mysterious sound — a rustling 
and scampering that at first neither could account 
for. 

'‘Scared, Ned?’’ asked Tom, as his chum hung 
back. 

"Rats!” retorted Ned the next minute. 

"That’s just what they are,” laughed Tom, 
who, despite their serious position, was amused 
at Ned’s answer, "millions of them I should 
think.” 

"Thousands, anyhow. Come on, Tom.” 

The two boys stumbled along the bottom of 
the ship, clambering over timbers and planks. 

"We must be past that bulkhead above us by 
this time,” observed Ned presently. "I wonder 
if this hold runs the length of the ship?” 

"I guess it must. We’ll keep on, anyhow.” 

A few paces further brought them to a ladder 


110 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
which led upward. Here they paused. As if he 
guessed Ned’s thoughts, Tom turned to him. 

“Well, shall we try it?” he asked. 

“Might as well,” responded Ned; “we can’t 
be any worse off than we are, and I’m dying for 
something to eat.” 

At this instant something made him think of 
the papers that Dr. Duncan had entrusted to 
him. He felt in his pocket. They w^ere gone ! 

“I don’t see why any one should have kid- 
napped us for those,” commented Tom, when 
this information had been imparted to him. “I 
understood Dr. Duncan to say that they were 
simply for the purpose of recording a deed. 
What possible use could they be to anybody?” 

“Jiggered if I know. It’s all a mystery to me,” 
was Ned’s answer. 

Suddenly Tom thought of the furtive face he 
was certain that he had seen among the Cherokee 
roses. 

“I wonder if that had anything to do with our 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 111 

present troubles/’ he thought to himself. But he 
said nothing to Ned. In fact, at that moment 
both boys had plenty to occupy their minds with- 
out indulging in speculation. 

They began mounting the ladder. At the top 
they found an open hatchway just like the one 
by which they had descended. Climbing through 
it, they found themselves in another bare, empty 
hold. At one end, however, a shaft of sunlight 
poured down through an opening, which evi- 
dently gave on to the deck of the craft, whatever 
she was. 

A ladder led up to this hatch. Tom looked at 
it a minute in silence, then he said : 

''Anything is better than this suspense. Fm 
going to climb that ladder and find out where we 
are.” 

Ned demurred to this. He urged that such an 
act might lead to even more serious trouble than 
they were then in. But Tom was obdurate. 

“Anything is better than this suspense,” he de- 


112 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
dared again. ''For all we know, we may be out 
at sea.’’ 

"Hardly, or we’d feel the motion. Well, go 
ahead, Tom, but, for gracious sake, be careful.” 

"Trust me. Here, hold this candle while I’m 
gone.” 

Tom handed the flickering candle to Ned and 
was off. Ned, with a beating heart, watched 
him climb the ladder and vanish into the square 
of sunlight at its summit. As he waited there, 
he expected at any instant to hear sounds of a 
struggle or indications that Tom was in trouble, 
and he picked up a billet of wood that lay in one 
corner of the hold. 

But a long interval passed, during which Ned 
could almost hear the pounding of his own heart, 
and nothing happened. He began to get worried. 
What could have happened to Tom? The more 
he speculated about it the more anxious he be- 
came. At length Ned determined, at whatever 
hazard, to end his suspense. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


113 


Blowing out the candle, he placed it in his 
pocket and carefully ascended the ladder up 
which Tom had climbed. Arriving at the top he 
cautiously protruded his head. He found that 
the hatch was behind a big cask, seemingly a 
water barrel. No one was in sight, so far as 
Ned’s observation extended. He looked about 
him curiously. 

His first look satisfied him that they were on 
board no other vessel than a Chinese junk. He 
could see the stumpy masts and the odd-shaped 
bulwarks. Bits of red paper — warnings to devils 
to keep away — were pasted up here and there. 
The furled matting sails told him that they were 
at anchor. His observation only extended to the 
bow, however. The stern was blocked out from 
view by the big cask. 

Ned’s curiosity now began to get the better of 
his prudence. He determined to know what was 
going on and where they were. He, of course, 
had no knowledge of how long he had remained 


114 THE MOTOK CYCLE CHUMS 
insensible, and for all he knew they might have 
traveled a long way down or up the coast. 

As silently as he could he worked his way 
around the big cask and found himself blocked 
by a big coil of rope. 

He was about to raise himself and peer over 
the top of this when something happened that al- 
most made him give a loud cry of alarm and 
discover himself to whoever might be about. 

A hand fell heavily on his shoulder, and the 
next instant another hand was clapped over his 
mouth. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


115 


CHAPTER XIII. 

‘"no thoroughfare:!” 

''Stay still, Ned! It's me — Tom!” 

What a relief it was to Ned to hear his chum's 
voice! Tom took his hand from Ned's lips as 
soon as he had spoken, and Ned looked around 
at him. 

"Where in the world did you come from?” he 
asked in the same low, cautious tones that Tom 
had made use of. 

"From the other side of that coil of rope. 
Whatever possessed you to come up on deck?” 

"Couldn't help it, Tom. Thought something 
must have happened to you. I came heeled, 
though.” 

Ned flourished his billet of timber. 

"Gracious! Glad you didn't see me first and 
think I was a Chink !” 


116 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

"‘So am I/’ grinned Ned. ‘H was out for blood, 
I can tell you. Crackey, Tom, when I felt you 
grab me I thought it was all off. Wonder you 
wouldn’t warn a fellow.” 

“Warn you? How on earth did I dare to 
speak any louder than we are talking now ? Lis- 
ten!” 

Tom held up an admonitory finger. Ned, 
straining his ears, caught a sing-song buzz of 
talk. 

“It’s the Chinese!” he exclaimed. 

“Yes; but they might as well be in China for 
all that I can make out of their conversation. I 
wish we had Wing Lung here.” 

“So do I. But say, Tom, can’t we get a look 
at them?” 

“Sure thing. Come round to this side of the 
coil of rope. I’ve been watching them from there 
for almost an hour. They’ve been jabbering like 
so many monkeys, but don’t seem to have got any 
further.” 


117 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 
shouldn't wonder if they are discussing us." 

^‘That’s just what I thought. But come round 
here and take a peek. Easy now. Of course 
they think we are safe under lock and key in 
that black hole down below, but it's no use tak- 
ing chances." 

Tom threw himself on his stomach and wig- 
gled round the coil of rope. Ned followed his 
example. Beyond the coil was a sort of rough 
windlass. Half hidden by a balk of timber be- 
longing to this apparatus, the boys could gaze 
their fill at the after deck of the junk without 
much danger of detection. At all events, come 
what might, Ned felt that it was much more 
comfortable on deck in the fresh air than in that 
abominably stuffy and dark hole below. 

Squatting on the deck, where it took a raise 
aft to form a sort of cabin, the boys saw a group 
of particularly ill-favored Chinamen. They wore 
all sorts of garments. Some were dressed in oil- 
skin shirts and cloth trousers, with big fisher 


118 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 
boots, and red handkerchiefs knotted about their 
heads. Others wore fur-trimmed caps, and the 
loose blouse and pantaloons of their fatherland. 
They differed materially from the soft-voiced, 
gentle-mannered irrigation coolies that the boys 
were familiar with. Their rough fisher-life had 
made them almost ferocious looking. In the belt 
that each wore was visible a knife. This blade 
was nothing more than the ordinary sailor’s im- 
plement, but somehow the coarse, sinister faces 
of the Chinamen made even such weapons take 
on a menacing look. 

Three of the Chinamen alone differed from the 
others, in that they wore better garments and ap- 
peared to be less wild and rugged. One of these 
was a giant of a man for a Chinaman, for the 
Mongolians, as a rule, are not remarkable for 
stature. His companions clustered about him as 
if they regarded him as a sort of leader. 

This individual had in his hands a bundle of 
papers over which they all were jabbering and 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 119 

gesticulating. It was hard to make out any part 
of their conversation. It appeared to be a mo- 
notonous sing-song which, even had the boys un- 
derstood the language, they would have found 
difficult to break up into detached words or 
phrases. But Ned was constantly catching two 
recurring words — “Sing Lee.'^ 

Over and over again were these repeated, till 
it began to dawn on him that he had heard them 
before. Then, like a flash, Hugh Chilvers' story 
came back to him. Sing Lee, the gigantic Chi- 
nese miner! Beyond a doubt this must be the 
man, and the others were his satellites or em- 
ployees. But why should they have kidnapped 
the two boys? To this puzzling question, Ned 
was fain to confess there was no answer so far 
as he was concerned. 

His attention was presently drawn to the 
papers which the big Chinaman had now spread 
out on the deck. About them the whole storm 
of the argument appeared to center. Suddenly 


120 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
Ned recognized that they were the plans and 
specifications which Dr. Duncan had given him 
to deliver to the real estate agent. 

''What possible interest can they have for that 
bunch of Chinks?’’ thought Ned disgustedly 
when Tom nudged him. 

"Say, they think that those papers are the map 
to the lost mine!” he exclaimed with a broad 
grin. 

"By cracky! I believe you are right, Tom,” 
gasped out Ned, a great light breaking before 
him, "and they kidnapped us in that belief ! But,” 
he paused, and a puzzled look crept over his face, 
"how in the world did they know that we had 
them?” 

"Why, it’s plain as print.” 

Ned shook his head. 

"I don’t see yet,” he said. 

"Well, look here then,” whispered Tom bend- 
ing his head low. "It’s clear that it didn’t take 
them long to find out how Uncle Hugh had 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 121 

fooled them. They knew that the map must be 
some place ’round the doctor’s house; at least, 
they thought so. How they knew that Uncle 
Hugh was there is beyond me. But anyhow, 
they set a watch on the place — don’t you remem- 
ber that I thought I saw some one watching us 
from among those Cherokee roses last night ?” 

‘'Yes; I thought you must be mistaken. But 
now ” 

‘T guess you think I was right?” 

‘T sure do. But go on, Tom.” 

“Very well then. Whoever was watching saw 
the doctor hand you those papers and give you 
some instructions. They assumed — mind. I’m 
assuming all this, too — that those papers were 
Uncle Hugh’s, and that for some reason they 
were being smuggled out of the house. All right 
then. The watcher hurries back along the road 
he knows we must take, and they lie in wait for 
us. In order to make sure we’ll stop they strew 


122 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
broken glass in the road to puncture our tires. 
Then they sit down and wait.'' 

‘'But suppose we had come some other way?" 

“In that case they'd have watched for another 
chance. They are a very patient people." 

“Then you think that we are merely being kept 
prisoners because " 

“They are scared to let us go. They are like 
the chap that caught the wildcat. But I'd give 
a whole lot to know what they are making out 
of those plans." 

“Let's take another look." 

Once more the boys peered out from their ob- 
servation place. This time they were to see that 
Sing Lee had at last realized the fact that he had, 
to use a slangy but forceful expression, been 
“barking up the wrong tree." 

They saw him rise to his feet from his- squat- 
ting position in the midst of the group and fling 
the papers overboard wtih a most disgusted ex- 
pression. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 123 

“Ha! ha! that’s the time we fooled you, old 
boy,” grinned Tom delightedly. “I fancy our old 
college chum is in no very good humor right now. 
The first time he got a lot of brass filings, and 
now, in the place of the map, he obtains posses- 
sion of a lot of perfectly good plans and specifi- 
cations.” 

“But what’s to become of us, Tom? That’s 
the question,” demanded Ned, who had a faculty 
of going straight to the point of any problem. 

“I think that now is the time that they will 
select for visiting our prison and trying to find 
out what we know about the matter,” rejoined 
Tom. 

“In that case let’s get back and pretend we 
never left it.” 

“What I was going to propose. Come on.” 

Crouching, they turned preparatory to retrac- 
ing their steps through the bowels of the junk. 
But as they started to descend the hatchway by 


124 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
which they had ascended to the deck a sudden 
sound brought them to an abrupt standstill. 
Below them sounded footsteps and voices. 

The way back was ''no thoroughfare.’’ 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


125 


CHAPTER XIV. 

WHOSE MOVE NEXT? 

It was a juncture where only quick thinking 
could solve the problem that confronted them. 
Already the footsteps they had heard below could 
be made out as ascending the ladder. Caught 
fairly between two fires, the boys hesitated. 
Then they gazed about them, trying with des- 
perate resolution to conceive some way out of 
their difficulty. 

Standing erect as they now were, they could 
see over the bulwarks. The junk lay at anchor, 
as Ned had surmised. Not more than a hundred 
yards off, across a muddy creek, lay a collection 
of huts and tumble-down shacks. Above them 
towered a wooded slope, on the summit of which 
was a more or less ruinous mission building of 
the familiar type, a few bells still hanging in the 


126 THE MOTOK CYCLE CHUMS 
square adobe towers. Though they did not rec- 
ognize the place, our readers know that the junk 
lay in the creek off the fisher village of San 
Pedro, already viewed from a distance by friends 
of the Motor Cycle Chums. 

Ned gave a quick glance around. Already the 
Chinese on the after deck had spied them and set 
up a shout. For one instant sheer astonishment 
held their captors rooted to the spot. They had 
had no idea that the boys would emerge from 
the influence of the drug so quickly. The sight 
of the two lads they had confidently supposed 
were lying insensible below temporarily dum- 
founded them. 

Ned saw this, and at the same instant realized 
that, if they were to act at all, they must act on 
the instant. Already the tall Chinaman was 
starting forward with a cry of rage. Through 
the hatchway behind them appeared a shaven 
poll with a pigtail hanging from it. Tom 
snatched up the billet of wood that Ned had 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 127 

dropped. With it he dealt the bare skull a 
crashing blow. There was a grunt and a clatter 
as the ascending Chinaman dropped, falling un- 
hurt on two of his compatriots who were below 
him. 

Tom’s blow had not been a hard one. It was 
just sufficient to stop the man, for the boy could 
not bring it upon himself actually to disable the 
fellow, worthy of such a fate as he might have 
been. 

'‘Tom, it’s our opportunity!” 

Ned rapped the words out as the two boys 
heard the tumult below. From the stern the Chi- 
nese were advancing with a vicious rush. 

"Go ahead, old fellow. I’m right with you,” 
snapped out Tom breathlessly. 

"Then follow me. It’s our big chance !” 

Ned rushed to the rail and swiftly sized up 
the height of the dive and the probable depth of 
the water. 


128 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 

He clambered up while the onrush of Chinese 
from the stern swept down on them. 

‘‘Come on, Tom!’' 

Ned’s voice rang out clear and sharp above 
the discordant yells and shouts of the Chinese. 
But Tom hesitated an instant. In his haste he 
had given his ankle a wrench. The pain was ex- 
cruciating, but he bravely tried to overcome his 
momentary faintness. Like an avalanche the 
Chinese drove on. Sticks and belaying pins be- 
gan to fly through the air in a shower. They 
whizzed all about the boys, but luckily the aim 
of the infuriated men was bad and the lads were 
not hurt. 

Ned, looking behind him, saw Tom bend over 
his ankle and then, with a white face, straighten 
up. 

''Give me a hand, Ned,” he gasped, "I’m all 
right.” 

"You’re hurt?” 

"No; only a twist of the ankle. Help me up on 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 129 

the rail. Til be able to swim all right/’ for Tom 
had guessed Ned’s plan to swim for the shore. 

Ned leaped from the rail and supported Torm 
toward it. He had just helped him up when: 
the tall Chinaman rushed upon them, the others; 
a trifle behind him. Evidently they were some- 
what afraid of the two stalwart youths. 

There are times when a movement made on 
the spur of the moment is more successful than 
one which is premeditated. With this in mind, 
Ned bent low, and with a yell calculated to alarm 
the superstitious Chinese, he rushed straight at 
the tall Chinaman. The fellow flashed a knife in 
the air, but in the wink of an eyelash Ned had 
rushed between his legs like a battering ram. 

Over toppled the tall Chinee, his arms waving 
like the sails of a windmill. His balance com- 
pletely lost, he tottered back, and, catching his 
feet on the edge of the hatch coaming, he pitched 
headlong down, landing on the top of the squirm- 
ing, yelling mass below. 


130 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

Ned instantly sprang for the rail on which 
Tom was already poised. 

‘'Now, Tom!'’ he yelled at the top of his lungs. 

For one fraction of a second the two lads stood 
unsupported on the narrow rail. 

The next instant they flashed downward in a 
clean dive, not reappearing till a few yards sepa- 
rated them from the side of the junk. 

'‘Come back! We shootee!” shrilled a voice 
from the junk, proceeding evidently from a Chi- 
naman who had some knowledge of the English 
language. 

Ned glanced back. He saw the wild looking 
crew lined up along the bulwarks. The sun 
glinted on something that he was sure was a re- 
volver held in the hand of one of the Mongolians. 

“Dive, Tom, and swim as far as you can under 
water.” 

Tom promptly obeyed, and a stream of bub- 
bles marked the spot where the two Motor Cycle 
Chums vanished from the view of the marksman. 



THE NEXT INSTANT THEY FLu^SHED DOWNWARD IN A 

CLEAN DIVE. — Page 130 . 



IN THE GOLD FIELDS 131 

A few feet more and they were compelled to come 
up for breath. The exciting scene which had pre- 
ceded their dive had badly winded Ned, and 
Tom's foot hurt painfully. 

‘^Do you think they'll shoot, Ned?" gasped out 
Tom. 

''No; they won't dare to so close to a village — 
wow !" 

There was a spattering of water as a bullet 
zipped past them, ricocheting along the surface 
of the water. 

A yell went up from the Chinese. 

"Crackers ! They do mean business, after all f 
Dive again, Tom, and swim as fast as you can 
for the land." 

Once more the forms of the two swimming 
boys vanished from view. But they had to come 
up again shortly. Almost exhausted as they 
were, their clothes began to feel like suits of 
armor, their limbs like lead. 


132 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 




‘H — I can't keep this up much longer," gasped 
out Tom, ^Tetter go on and leave me, Ned." 

'‘As if I would!" replied Ned indignantly. 
"No, Tom, you've got to make shore, and that's 
all there is to it. Come on," and Ned struck out 
once more, keeping close to Tom in case the lat- 
ter's strength should suddenly give out, as he had 
every reason to fear it would. 

Another bullet zipped past them, but, like the 
first, it went wide of the mark. 

"Look," cried Ned suddenly, "there's a boat 
putting out from the shore." 

"So there is. Three persons are in it. Hur- 
ray, we're saved!" ' 

"Not so fast, Tom. Those fellows in the boat 
are Chinamen!" 

"What?" 

"They are, I tell you. Great Scott, Tom !" as 
the truth flashed on him, "we are out of the fry- 
ing pan into the fire with a vengeance! This 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 133 

must be the Chinese fishing village of San 
Pedro.” 

^‘If we could gain the shore first, we might 
escape them yet.” 

‘'I doubt it. Pm almost all in, and I guess you 
are as bad.” 

“Worse,” rejoined poor Tom, panting pain- 
fully. His breath came with a whistling sound 
forced between his clenched teeth. 

The boat, manned by the three Chinamen, be- 
gan to move toward the boys with all swiftness. 

o 

In a moment it was alongside. 

“Dive!” cried Ned, determined to face the situ- 
ation out to the last ditch. 

But in their almost exhausted condition the 
boys could not stay under for any length of time. 
As they came up, both were grabbed by the hair. 
They struggled with every ounce of strength 
they possessed, but, despite their stout resistance, 
they were hauled on board. Tom’s condition was 
now serious. The last dive and the struggle fol- 


134 THE MOTOK CYCLE CHUMS 
lowing it had almost cost him his life. As he was 
hauled on board he only realized in a dim, uncer- 
tain way what had taken place. 

Not so Ned. Almost crazed by this seizure, he 
struck out furiously. His fist caught one of his 
captors full on the nose, flattening it even more 
than nature had already done. 

''Ooof !’V groaned the Chinaman, and would 
have fallen overboard had it not been for his 
comrades, who caught him. 

Ned took advantage of this to seize an oar. 
He waved it round his head menacingly and 
dared his captors to ‘‘come on,’' regardless of the 
fact that they could not know what he was say- 
ing. But if they did not understand the words, 
they were not slow to catch the meaning of them. 
The sight of this dauntless young American boy, 
his face and eyes aflame, brandishing the heavy 
oar with a right good will, struck fear into their 
hearts. They crouched, jabbering, at the stern 
of the boat. 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 


135 


Following up his advantage, Ned advanced. It 
was a fatal move. His foot caught in a thwart 
and down he came, headlong, sprawling his 
length on the bottom of the boat. 

With a cry of triumph the Chinese rushed for- 
ward. In a trice they had both Ned and Tom 
tied hand and foot, as powerless to move as two 
bundles. 

This done, they rowed toward the junk in an- 
swer to a loud hail from her decks. As they 
came alongside, the tall Chinaman and two others 
descended the side by a rough rope ladder. Ned, 
who could see about him, noted with some satis- 
faction a large plum-colored bruise above the tall 
Chinaman’s eye. It was a beautiful '‘pigeon’s 
egg,” sustained when he tumbled into the hold on 
the top of his struggling fellow countrymen. 

"That was one for you anyhow, old socks,” 
grinned Ned to himself, with much inward sat- 
isfaction. 

The tall Chinaman scowled at him, but vouch- 


136 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


safed no remarks. He uttered a few rapid or- 
ders in Chinese, and the boat began to move to- 
ward the shore. 

'T wonder what the next move is going to be,’’ 
mused Ned. ‘‘At any rate. I’m afraid it won’t 
be ours. We’ve had that and lost.” 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


137 


CHAPTER XV. 

IN the: otd be:ti, towe:r. 

It was twilight. In a small room with rough 
plaster walls, lighted only by a small, high 
window, two boys sat disconsolately discussing 
the situation in which they found themselves. 
The remains of a meal which had consisted of 
stew, served with rice, bread and water, lay on 
the tiled floor. Furnishings there were none. 

The door of this place was of stout oak held, 
as the boys well knew, by a heavy bar of iron 
on the outside. Of course the reader has recog- 
nized the prisoners as the Motor Cycle Chums, 
but the place of their imprisonment he is less 
liable to have surmised. They were under bolt 
and bar in one of the bell towers of the old San 
Pedro mission, a hundred feet or more above 
the ground, — locked in a chamber — once a 


138 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
monkish cell — from which egress, except by 
supernatural means, appeared impossible. 

What had brought them there is soon told. 
Bound and trussed, they had been landed from 
the boat and thrust into a rude hut. Here the 
tall Chinaman visited them and put to them a 
multiplicity of questions concerning Hugh Chil- 
vers and his lost mine. He frankly confessed he 
had made a mistake in ordering the capture of 
the two boys, but nevertheless, he said, after the 
trouble they had caused he was going to keep 
them prisoners till he had decided what to do 
with them. 

Moreover he asserted, in his very fair English, 
that he was certain that they knew at least some- 
thing of the mine and the whereabouts of the 
map. Both boys stoutly denied this, and begged 
to be set free, but Sing Lee was firm. Finally 
they were carried to the bell tower and locked 
into this chamber, which apparently had been 
used as a prison before, to judge by the iron 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 139 

bars and bolts on the outside of the door. The 
window was not barred, presumably on account 
of the tower being at such a height from the 
ground that escape would be impossible by that 
route. 

To explain further why the boys had reason 
to believe that the chamber in which they were- 
confined had been used as a prison before, they 
had, in the first place, noticed, driven into the 
wall, a stout iron ring. From this ring depended 
a chain and handcuffs of antique type. In the 
second place, they had heard rumors that the 
Chinese on the isolated island made their own 
laws, held their own courts and punished their 
offenders in their own way. The authorities did 
not interfere with them because they did not 
deem it worth while to meddle with a colony 
that kept strictly to itself, not to mention the 
difficulty of reaching the lonely place. 

The outlook was gloomy enough. True, they 
were not tied, their lashings having been cut. 


140 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
On the whole, they had to admit, they had not 
been treated inhumanly and, had they been able 
to know the outcome of their confinement, they 
might have regarded it in the light of an excit- 
ing adventure. But it was the thought of their 
friends’ worry and the uncertainty that beset 
them, that made their situation so aggravating. 
They guessed that, ultimately, the Chinese would 
have to set them free; but then, on the other 
hand, they had learned a good deal of the secrets 
of San Pedro, and they might not be liberated 
till it suited the yellow men to do so without 
peril to themselves. 

One thing was plain enough to them now. 
Sing Lee and his companions, in their persistent 
search for the map, had enlisted the good offices 
of their compatriots. As the boys knew, all 
Chinese belong to one of Six Companies — pow- 
erful secret organizations, the members of 
which are pledged to aid each other, no matter 
what the occasion. That members of Sing Lee’s 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


141 


tong, or company, had given him the use of the 
junk and its crew in his nefarious enterprise 
neither lad found room to doubt. ^ 

Twilight deepened into dusk and dusk into 
darkness while the boys sat discussing their 
plight. At last they sank into an uneasy sort 
of sleep, disturbed by weird dreams. These were 
probably due to the last effects of the Chinese 
drug. 

What time it might have been Tom had no 
idea, when he was awakened by the sound of a 
Chinese banjo below. On it was being played 
a tune which agreed with the Chinese rules of 
harmony, starting with a grunt and ending in 
a high pitched squeak. The performance, judged 
by Western standards, was a shade below a cats’ 
concert, but to Tom’s ears just then it sounded 
like the sweetest harmony. 

‘'Tump ! tampa-tampa ! tump !” went the banjo. 

“Oh-h-h! E-yi-ee-oo! Oh-e-yi-e-o-o-o-o-o-o !” 
went the voice over and over again. 


142 


THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 


Tom shook Ned’s shoulder violently. 

'‘Ned! wake up!” he whispered. “Hark, do 
you hear that tune?” 

“Yes, some Chink exercising his lungs or ser- 
anading his lady love,” drawled Ned sleepily. 

“Lady love nothing! It’s us he’s singing to!” 

“Tell him to shut up then.” 

“Don’t you recognize that tune? Say, don’t 
you ?” 

“Why, there is something familiar about it. 
Let’s see, it’s — it’s ” 

“Wing Lung!” 

“Crackers! So it is. I remember now we 
used to throw boots at him in camp to make 
him stop caterwauling. But how in the world 
did he get here, if it is he?” 

“It’s him,” confidently asserted the ungram- 
matical Tom. “Tell you what, Ned, give me a 
boost up on your shoulders. I can reach the 
window that way and look out. It’s bright moon- 
light and I can see whoever is below.” 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 143 

Ned, broad awake now, scrambled to his feet. 

‘‘All right, Tom,’’ he said, leaning against the 
wall, “climb up!” 

Tom, whose ankle still pained him, manfully 
scrambled up on Ned’s shoulders and thence 
chinned up to the window. Below him lay a 
small clearing surrounded by brush and flooded 
with moonlight. At the foot of the tower, like a 
forlorn lover in an old ballad, stood Wing Lung, 
his yellow face turned upward, strumming away 
like mad at his old Chinee banjo. 

“Hullo, Wing!” hailed Tom softly. 

A joyous exclamation went up from Wing. 

“Hullo, Massel Tom! You one piecee allee 
litee?” 

“Yes, we’re all right, except that we’d rather 
be outside this place. Stop that racket a minute, 
will you?” 

“Allee litee. Me sing wakee you, so be. Me 
velly cleveh Chinee, sing, play eblything.” 


144 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

‘‘Never mind that now. How did you get 
here?'' 

“Me tell you bymby. Listen, you want getee 
out?" 

“Do we want to get out? What a question!" 

“Allee litee, me fixee him. See this ball stling? 
Me throw to you, you catch um. Let end down. 
Me fixee lope. You climb down one piecee quick. 
Sabee?" 

“I sabe fast enough," rejoined Tom delight- 
edly. “I'll make the rope fast to a big hook that's 
in the room here. But have you plenty of rope?" 

“Me swipee plenty lot from village. Allee men 
sleepee. They thinkee you lock up tight. All 
samee county jail." 

“Well, they'll find out their mistake before 
long. Fire away with that string, Wing." 

It took several efforts before Tom caught the 
ball of twine, but at last he grasped it. This 
done, he let down one end and was soon hauling 
up a good stout rope. Pulling the end of this 


4 


c 


I 


i- 


f 



TOM WENT FIRST AND REACHED THE GROUND IN SAFETY. 

— Page 145 . 




I. 



t 


/ 




t 


t 


4 


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» 

4 


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IN THE GOLD FIELDS 145 

in, he and Ned, the latter of course having been 
told all that was going on, made one end fast 
to the great ring in the wall. This done, all was 
ready for the descent. 

Tom went first and reached the ground in 
safety. In fact, to an athletic lad like him it 
was not much of a trick to slide down a strong 
rope. Nor did the thought of the descent bother 
Ned at all. He was preparing to follow Tom 
when there came a sound outside the door that 
made his heart stand still. 

Some one was ascending the stairs! Under 
the door Ned could catch the gleam of the lan- 
tern that was carried. For an instant he hesi- 
tated, and then clambering up the rope like a 
squirrel he reached the window, climbed through 
it and slid to the ground like the trained athlete 
he was. 

Hardly had his feet touched the ground, when 
from the tower window a light gleamed and 
a quick, startled voice sounded. 


146 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
Their escape had been discovered! 

An instant later one of the long disused bells 
began to clang out on the night. It was a tocsin 
to rouse the fishing village from its slumbers. 
They had only a few minutes’ grace and then 
the island would be alive with searching Chinese. 

It was curious that in their quandary both boys 
looked at the '‘cleveh Chinee.” Never had his 
face seemed more unperturbed, more like a 
carved ivory mask, than at that critical instant. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


147 


CHAPTER XVL 

HOME AGAIN. 

‘What in the world will we do now, Wing?^’ 

Ned asked the question as, above the clanging 
of the bell, they could hear shouts and yells from 
the aroused village below. 

“You come follow me. Plentee quick. This 
way allee litee.’’ 

Wing darted off into the brush, following a 
narrow trail. The boys stumbled after him. Be- 
hind them they could hear the uproar of the 
crowd who were ascending the hill and surging 
about the old mission. Wing stopped in a moon- 
lit patch of the trail and listened. A distinct grin 
crept over his features. 

“They allee samee plenty mad,’' he said, “do 
them lot of good. We one piecee fixee them allee 
samee — so be.” 


148 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

Signing to the boys to follow him, he started 
once more down the narrow trail, this time at 
a swift trot. The boys had much ado to keep 
up with him. At length they emerged at the 
side of a creek. A boat lay there, a rough, leaky 
affair of boards, carelessly put together. Wing 
signed to it and they got in, Ned taking up the 
oars. Wing nodded to him approvingly. 

‘Tullee that way,’’ he said pointing, and Ned 
fell to the oars with a will. 

High upon the hill, lights flashed and shouts 
and cries resounded. 

Presently, as they drew around a bend in the 
creek, the concentrated nature of the sounds 
ceased. Lights began to scatter here and there, 
and some of them could be seen headed toward 
the water, 

''Him bad,’’ grunted Wing seeing this. 

"Why, we are clear away from the island,” 
protested Tom. 

"Yes, but cleek wind and wind allee samee 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 149 

macaloni. We be go by island again plitty 
soon.” 

Sure enough, the creek, bending and doubling 
like a snake among the marshes, brought them 
right opposite to the village itself before very 
long. Tom breathed hard as he saw that several 
Chinamen were putting off in boats. Evidently 
it had been guessed that they had made their 
escape by water. 

For a time it looked as if the boats must head 
them off, but they slipped by in the darkness. As 
soon as, under Wing’s guidance, Ned turned 
the boat into a narrow branch creek, the Chinee 
called on him to stop for a minute. Getting out 
of the boat, he produced a bit of rope. He tied 
one end of this to an old stake on one side of 
the creek mouth. A dismantled landing served 
as a place to make it fast on the other. 

‘'Now then, let them comee all they plenty 
much likee,” he said after he had completed the 
job to his satisfaction. “Honorable rope plentee 


150 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
much catchum allee boats. Long time ^fore they 
findee out what hit them — so be.’' 

'‘That is a clever idea, Wing,” delightedly de- 
clared Tom. 

“Oh, me velly, velly cleveh Chinee,” beamed 
Wing, his slant eyes dancing mischievously at 
the mental picture he formed of the pursuing 
boats bumping into the rope barrier. 

As swiftly as Ned’s powerful strokes would 
propel her, the boat was rushed along the creek. 
It was a narrow way, almost too narrow to use 
the oars. On each side steep banks towered so 
that they could see nothing but a strip of night 
sky far above them. Luckily, the moon gave 
plenty of light. 

Wing told his story as they hastened along. 
Taking it up where he left Nat and A1 to ride 
off for provisions, we will follow it. Briefly 
then. Wing had come to the village pretending 
that he was a Chinaman who had been “fired” 
from a ranch and wanted a job as fisherman. At 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 151 

first received suspiciously, he was at last taken 
into the confidence of his fellow countrymen. He 
was just fitted out with a job on one of the bigger 
junks, in fact, when he saw the boys carried to 
the tower. He made his way back to Nat and 
Al, and told them to '‘camp out’’ till he came 
back and informed them that he hoped to ac- 
complish the rescue of the boys. 

This done he made his way back to the village 
and, watching his chance, stole some twine and 
rope, and, when opportunity offered, made his 
way to the tower. First however, this con- 
scienceless Chinee had stolen a boat and placed 
it at the foot of the trail leading to the old mis- 
sion. How well his plan succeeded we already 
know. 

It was an hour after they left the old mission 
that the reunited lads were all shaking hands 
and congratulating each other, at the isolated 
place on the edge of the salt meadows where Nat 
and Al were waiting. That Wing came in for 


152 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 
the lion’s share of the praise goes without say- 
ing. Had it not been for the resourcefulness 
of the ‘'cleveh Chinee,” it might have been days 
before the boys escaped, or were set free. In 
fact, so far as their discovery was concerned, 
they might have been removed and hidden in 
case of a raid by the authorities. Wing told 
them that while on the island he had heard that 
the old mission was undermined with secret pas- 
sages and exits, through any of which it would 
have been an easy matter to smuggle the two 
prisoners in case of a visit from white men. 

But not much time was spent in talking over 
the affair. All felt that details could wait. Ned 
and Tom mounted behind Nat and Al, and Wing 
rode ahead on his machine. Dr. Duncan, seri- 
ously worried over the mysterious absence of 
his young friends, was the first to greet the 
Motor Cycle Chums as they came chugging up 
to his place. How warmly he welcomed them 
may be imagined. It was late at night before 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 153 

their stories were told, narratives to which Hugh 
Chilvers, now able to sit up, listened with rapt 
attention. Of course, in the meantime, the 
'phone had been in requisition and everybody 
concerned notified that the missing lads had been 
found. 

“How I wish that I could have lads like you 
along when I go out bn the gold trail once more !" 
exclaimed Hugh Chilvers when Ned wound up 
his story. 

“They'd be a great aid to us, Chilvers," agreed 
Dr. Duncan. 

“Us?" asked Ned, noticing the plural the 
doctor used. 

“Yes; I guess I've got the gold fever once 
more," laughed the famous geologist. “I've a 
little money I don't know what to do with, and 
I've agreed to go into this Lost Mine business 
with friend Chilvers here. It looks like a good 
investment. Anyhow, I need a change, and the 
adventurous part of it will do me good. And if 


154 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 
we don’t get gold and found a new El Dorado, 
we shall have had the good fortune to explore j 
some most interesting prehistoric works, and I 
do not know but that, to me, will be as inter- 5 
esting as the discovery of virgin gold.” 

Ned and Tom exchanged glances. Then they 
looked up at Nat and Al. The doctor regarded . 
them all quizzically. 

''Thinking you’d like to come along, eh, boys?” 
he said. 

"Well — er ” began Tom and stopped. 

"You see ” stammered Nat. j 

"We were dying to take a long trip on our ? 
motor cycles,” stuck in Ned, "and maybe ” ^ 

"We could be useful,” supplemented Tom 
boldly. 

f 

"Well, well, we’ll see,” quoth the doctor en- rl 
couragingly, "but just now the order of the day 
is bed. To-morrow is another day.” | 

As they undressed in the big room in which . 

■ i 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 155 

they all four were put up for the night, the boys 
conversed in low, excited tones. 

guess my dad would let me go,’^ hazarded 
Ned. “It wouldn’t be half as dangerous as the 
Northwest.” 

The others agreed that a trip to the Lost Mine 
could be as safe as riding on the New York sub- 
way. But this was said for “external use only,” 
as the liniments have it. Each boy, in his heart 
of hearts, was dreaming of the excitement of 
the open desert, the fascination and mystery of 
the Lost Mine, the lure of the search for gold. 

“Say, boys,” mumbled Tom sleepily, as he sank 
off into slumber, “Fm going to dream of the 
trail.” 

“The gold trail,” added Ned poetically, as he 
closed his eyes. 


156 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


CHAPTER XVIL 
the: goi,d Trail. 

The dull gray light that heralds the coming of 
dawn over the vast and dreary stretches of the 
great Nevada desert became streaked with 
flushes of rose color. Gradually these grew 
brighter till the eastern sky glowed vermilion 
and scarlet. The firmament blazed like the 
mouth of a blast furnace. Then the sun, a copper 
hued ball, topped the ragged edge of a range of 
desolate, barren hills, and it was day. 

As the light spread, every detail of the scene 
was brought into relief. To the east, vast 
stretches of glittering white alkali flats, dreary, 
monotonous and suggestive of sinister things, 
were revealed. Far off lay the desert range, 
above which the sun was now swimming, but for 
the rest it was one great sea of alkali. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 157 

To the westward were more hills, bare, tree- 
less and devoid of all semblance of life. They 
looked like the mountains we see in imaginary 
pictures of the moon. They might have been 
the outcroppings of a dead continent. In the 
broken ground at the foot of these western hills 
appeared scores of small arroyos and gullies. 
They seamed the gray desert as wrinkles line 
and criss-cross an old man’s face. 

From one of these arroyos, as the sun grew 
higher, a thin column of smoke ascended like a 
gray ghost. From the same spot came the rattle 
of pots and pans and the sound of voices and 
laughter. The encampment from which these 
sounds of life proceeded was an odd one, con- 
sidering the surroundings. Insensibly one as- 
sociates the desert with wiry bronchos, hard-as- 
iron cowboys, horse hunters or wandering In- 
dians. 

In this encampment, however, none of these 
figured. Instead, there were three neat tents of 


158 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
waterproof silk, light green in color, a collaps- 
ible table spread with tinware ready for break- 
fast, and stools set around it. Above the cooking 
fire, composed of sage brush roots, a Chinaman 
was busy stirring a big pot of oatmeal. Bacon 
crisped in a spider. The pleasant aroma of cof- 
fee filled the morning air, which was still cool; 
for, blindingly hot as are days on the desert, the 
nights are invariably cool and pleasant. 

But, astonishing as was all this in a desert 
camp, there were still more surprising things 
about it; that is, from a plainsman^s point of 
view. Off to one side stood a singular looking, 
black automobile, capable of seating two. Its 
big engine hood showed that it was equipped 
beneath its ‘‘bonnet’’ with engines of high power. 
Leaning against the auto were five motor cycles. 
Four of them were natty and up to date, although 
dusty from the desert. The fifth, a single cylin- 
dered machine, showed signs of hard usage. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 159 

From its handle bars hung a tiny figure of a 
Chinese god or joss. 

From one of the tents there presently emerged 
four sun-burned, well-knit lads. All wore uni- 
forms of khaki of very light weight, big pith 
sun helmets, black leggins and boots. On the 
breast of each was pinned some sort of scarlet 
emblem. A closer inspection would have shown 
this to be a tiny enameled figure of a motor 
cyclist inclosed in a filigree border. Each bore 
the words: ^^The Riding Rovers' Club” From 
each motor cycle, too, which we did not notice 
before, there depended a scarlet silk pennant 
bearing the same legend. 

Hardly had the four boys emerged and begun 
skylarking about, when from the other two tents 
there appeared an elderly, soldierly-looking man, 
wearing sun spectacles and a white linen suit, 
and a stalwart, powerful individual with a nut- 
brown beard who wore the garb of a miner. The 
latter's costume consisted of a rough blue shirt, 


160 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
sombrero, red handkerchief, dungaree trousers 
and boots. 

Of course our readers will have guessed that 
the boys are Ned Winton and Tom Chase and 
their chums, Nat Nichols and A1 Anderson. The 
two men are Dr. Duncan and Tom's uncle, — long 
since restored to rugged health, — Hugh Chilvers. 
How do they come to be out on the desert ‘^a 
hundred miles from any place," as Tom puts it? * 

While the boys are scampering off with tin 
basins to get a wash at a ‘"water-hole" a short 
way down the arroyo, we will retrace our steps j 
a little and explain how it happens that our | 
party is so far from Dr. Duncan's comfortable ^iS 
ranch house, where we last saw them sinking off | 
to roseate dreams of the gold trail. S 

Dr. Duncan proved as good as his hints. He u 
and Mr. Chilvers needed reliable help on their 
adventurous trip, but at the same time they did fj 
not exactly know of anyone with whom they f' 
cared to trust their momentous secret. The boys. 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 


161 


all sturdy young chaps, appealed to them as 
being just the right sort of material for such 
an expedition. But winning over the lads’ par- 
ents was a different proposition. 

Ned’s father and mother did not offer much 
opposition. In fact, Mr. Winton, who, as we 
know, was a manufacturer of mining machinery, 
readily took a third share in the venture and 
appointed Ned, laughingly, as his ''superintend- 
ent on the spot, to see that he didn’t get skinned.” 
Incidentally, a consignment of mining machin- 
ery had been sent from the factory in the east 
to await their call at Silver Bow on the Nevada 
and South East Utah R. R., the nearest station 
to the Lost Mine of the Bitter Creek desert. 

Mrs. Chase, however, had to return west, meet 
her long missing brother, and discuss matters 
with him before she would consent to Tom’s 
going along. But, at last, after many tears and 
much persuasion, she reluctantly gave way. 
Little Andy’s parents wouldn’t hear of his going. 


162 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
and Joe Shortridge’s father needed him at home. 
We regret to say that neither of these parental 
edicts was received without considerable rebel- 
lion. Nat and Al, after a hard fight, won their 
points and, bright with hope, the party had set • 
out from San Benito a week before. ■ 

Few knew of their real destination; but half 
the town was there to bid them ^'God-speed’’ on ^ 
what it was supposed was a hunting trip. Andy ] 
and Joe, almost in tears, watched the train pull 
out, and the boys felt real regret at leaving them 
behind. But it was not in boy nature to feel ■' 
depressed long, with the exciting thoughts of all | 
that lay in front of them claiming first place. J 
In San Francisco Mr. Chilvers obtained his J 
map from his engineer friend, and without loss i 
of time they made some purchases of modern 
rifles and so on, for the dash across the alkali. | 
Dr. Duncan had ordered, on plans suggested by 

1 ‘ 

‘Hugh Chilvers, an unique type of auto for desert J 

/'i, 

travel. It had the chassis of a touring car and • 

I 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 163 

was of sixty horse power. Its tires were solid 

and unusually wide, to avoid sinking into the 

sand, for, besides its own weight and that of its 

two passengers, the car was designed to carry 

three days’ supply of water and a big reserve 

fund of gasolene. It was for this reason that 

the touring part of the car had been stripped 

off, and only two small seats left. The remainder 

of the car was converted into a baggage wagon^ 

carrying the supplies, with the exception of the 

outfit that each of the motor cycle boys carried 

, on his machine. That outfit included emergency 

rations, toilet articles, a few changes of gar- 

I ments, socks and underclothes, and a portable 
ii 

tent, as well as their ^'first aid” kits and tools. 

■ The auto and the motor cycles had been loaded 
on the train at ’Frisco and when Silver Bow was 
reached the machines had needed only a few ad- 
justments to be ready for instant travel. In ad- 
vance of the party, a large reserve supply of 
gasolene had been shipped in iron drums to Silver 


164 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
Bow, and they expected from time to time to 
call for it as it was needed. The appearance of 
the company was a mystery to Silver Bow ; but it 
was given out that they were a party of eastern 
capitalists seeking oil, and so ridicule, instead of 
suspicion of their real object, greeted the trav- 
elers, which was just what they wanted. 

If an inkling of their real plans had leaked 
out, it would have been fatal to the secrecy with 
which they desired to work till everything was 
ready to declare to the world the opening of a 
new gold field, an unworked El Dorado. From 
which it will be seen that Dr. Duncan and his 
partners were not selfish enough to wish to keep 
their discovery wholly to themselves. If the find 
proved as rich as they confidently expected, they 
would be content to stake out claims for them- 
selves and then let the mining world share the 
wondrous goldfields. 




m THE GOLD FIELDS 


165 


CHAPTER XVIIL 
“thicre's no water/' 

Breakfast was a merry meal. This wild, free 
life along the trail suited the boys down to the 
), ground. Their elders, too, enjoyed it. To Dr. 
; Duncan it was like obtaining a new lease of life 
f to be once more back in the environment amid 
which he had made many of his geological stud- 
ies. Hugh Chilvers, on the other hand, was 
possessed of the true pioneer spirit, the spirit 
that lived and moved in the old pathfinders, 
Fremont, Clarke and Daniel Boone. 

The boys were getting their machines in readi- 
ness for a fresh start and Wing Lung was care- 
fully packing the washed-up dishes, when Dr. 
Duncan called Hugh Chilvers aside for a con- 
sultation. 


166 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

‘‘How far is it to the next water hole?” he 
asked. 

“Oh, a matter of sixty miles or so. We ought 
to make it by noon, or soon thereafter.” 

“I’m glad of that. The water in the tank is 
running rather low. Of course we can refill here, 
but we want to take no chances.” 

Chilvers nodded. 

“No, we’d better fill up,” he agreed, “desert 
water holes are treacherous things. Once in a 
while they have a nasty habit of going dry from 
no apparent cause.” 

The boys were summoned and the situation 
explained to them. Soon they were busy wkh 
folding canvas buckets, filling up the big water 
tank of the auto. It may as well be said here 
that the water obtained from the hole was not 
of any sparkling, crystal clear variety. It was 
muddy, discolored and strongly alkaline ; but 
travelers on the desert must get used to such 
things. Not that the boys minded hardships of 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 167 

any kind. The novelty of the trip, the complete 
change from anything they had known hitherto, 
appealed to them in a way that made minor 
troubles mere incidents of their journey. 

The tank was soon filled and, after everything 
had been packed compactly away, all was in read- 
iness for a fresh start. It was their second day 
on the desert, and the first time that they had 
had an opportunity to view the lonely alkaline- 
encrusted wastes from any height. Before start- 
ing they looked back over the desolate path they 
had traveled. Much more of the same sort of 
traveling lay before them. Yet, despite its lone- 
liness, the desert possessed a certain fascination 
for them. 

Hugh Chilvers walked up to where they stood 
beside their motor cycles, gazing back at the 
desert. 

, ‘'Well, what do you think of the Big Alkali, 
boys?'’ he inquired of them. 


168 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

“It’s rather early to say yet,” responded Ned, 
“but — but we like it, don’t we, boys?” 

“You bet we do,” came the enthusiastic re- 
sponse in chorus. 

Nat Nichols added sententiously : 

“Horntoads and haversacks, yes — it’s great.” 

Chilvers looked about him at the glittering 
waste and at the ragged hills devoid of moisture 
or of vegetation. 

“So far you have only seen the desert in its 
fairest mood,” he said. “It can be far different 
from this. Yet, in spite of all, men come back 
to it and risk their lives, lured on by the call of 
the gold.” 

His tone held a reminiscent note. Perhaps he 
was thinking of his partner, the man who had 
shown him the path to the lost mine, and whose 
bones lay out somewhere on the untraveled ex- 
panses that lay beyond them. He might have 
said more, but the doctor called to him im- 
patiently : 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 169 

' ^‘Come, Chilvers! We’re ready.” 

The miner hastened back to the auto, which 
was already chugging and trembling as if im- 
patient to be off without further delay. Around 
his neck Nat Nichols wore, slung by a cord, a 
bugle. He now placed it to his lips and blew a 
lilting call. It was the signal for the start. 

Like one machine, the motor cycles started 
their whirring, explosive song. Wing Lung’s bat- 
tered ‘'pop-pop bikee” making a noise like an 
automatic shot gun in full blast. They flung 
themselves into the saddles, after two hops and 
a jump, and off across the desert the cortege pro- 
ceeded, the motor cycles in advance, spinning 
along the rough trail. For they had not yet 
reached the point where they left the trail and 
struck into the pathless wastes that lay beyond. 

Hour after hour, while the sun climbed higher 
in the sky, they held their way. Dust rose in 
clouds about them, painting the travelers and 
their machines a uniform, dull tint of gray. Fol- 


170 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


lowing the cowboy fashion, the boys wore hand- 
kerchiefs across their mouths in order to pre- 
vent, as far as possible, any breathing in of the 
alkaline dust. But, even with this protection, the 
acrid, stinging powder penetrated their nostrils 
and made them smart sharply. 

The heat grew as the sun followed his track. 
At noon, when he hung in the zenith, the rays 
beat down like the breath from a newly opened 
oven door. But still, from the auto behind them, 
came no signal to stop. From time to time, Hugh 
Chilvers stood up in the auto and swept the hori- 
zon with a pair of binoculars. 

He was searching for the water hole. 

A naked post, planted long years since, should 
have marked the place where it was located and 
acted as a signal of hope to wandering pros- 
pectors; but as yet the miner had failed to see 
any trace of it. At length a halt was called. It 
was necessary to stop and allow the cylinders of 
the auto, which was an air-cooled machine, to 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 171 

f, cool off. Under the blazing sun, and at the 
steady pace that had been maintained, they had 
begun to heat up badly. The boys also were ex- 
periencing some trouble with their motor cycles. 
It was not only the heat from above, but the 
blistering warmth that radiated from the surface 
of the desert that caused the overheating of 
the cylinders. 

'Thew! me for a drink,” exclaimed Ned, jump- 
ing off the Red Streak as he brought it to a 
halt, ‘T feel as if Fd been eating dust for a year.” 
‘'Same here,” agreed Tom, “Fve perspired so 
^much that Fm as dry as an old bone.” 

“Plentee muchee warm,” assented Wing Lung, 
bringing his coughing and spluttering “Lattel- 

snake” to a halt. 

As for Nat and Al, they merely panted. 

“Dippers and dining cars, I could drink a pint 
of hot vinegar,” declared Nat, when he caught 
his breath. 

They all headed for the water tank with Ned 


172 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
and Tom in the lead. The former was opening 
his collapsible drinking cup as he ran. Dr. 
Duncan and Hugh Chilvers were busy examin- 
ing the overheated engine when they heard a 
sudden cry from Ned. 

‘‘WhaCs the matter?’^ cried Dr. Duncan 
anxiously, for Ned’s exclamation had been one 
of dismay. 

''Matter ! There’s no water !” 
water?” 

"That’s right. The spigot has jolted open and 
all but about a quart has run out along the road.” 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


173 


I ‘ CHAPTER XIX. 

I AN ODD CHARACTE:r. 

[ There are few things that strike more closely 
to the heart of the desert traveler than the noti- 
fication that the water supply has given out. 
Upon water he literally depends for his life. 
Without it, death is only a matter of hours, un- 
i less Providence intervenes. 

P Small wonder was it then that the party ex- 
I changed dismayed glances as they stood by the 
I tank. Ned had shut the spigot off, thereby con- 
I serving a few cupfuls of the precious fluid, but 
the leaky spigot had accomplished all the evil it 
I could. To close it now was much like locking 
the stable door after the horse has been stolen. 

The boys were all for satisfying their thirst 
with what little water remained. But Dr. 
Duncan vetoed it at once. 


174 


THE MOTOK CYCLE CHUMS 


‘‘Don’t touch a drop till we prospect for that 
water hole which ought to be somewhere close 
at hand,” he said, authoritatively. “Chilvers, 
surely we can’t be far from it?” 

“We should be able to sight it from here,” 
returned the other. “I cannot understand it.” 

He took out his compass and regarded it at- 
tentively. Then he looked up at the sun and at 
his watch, making a mental calculation ; for des- 
ert adventurers are like sailors in this, that they 
travel largely by the aid of the compass, map, 
sun and stars. Only they have frequently to 
cross uncharted stretches of country, whereas 
practically every knot of the ocean is charted 
and classified. 

“I’ve made no mistake,” he declared after an 
interval, “or, if I have, only a very slight one.” 

“But why can’t we see that pole which marks 
it?” 

The question came from Dr. Duncan. 

“That I am unable to say. I have a suggestion 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 175 

to offer, however. Let the young men scatter 
and see if they can locate it within a radius, say, 
of two miles from this spot.’’ 

‘'That sounds like a good idea,” assented Dr. 
Duncan, “but is there no danger of their getting 
i lost?” 

I “Not the least. That is, I hardly think so. 

But, to make assurance doubly sure, let them each 
j take a revolver or a rifle, and in case of trouble 
I they can fire three shots. These can be repeated 
t at intervals to guide a rescuing party in case of 
' need.” 

I 

The boys were all keen for this bit of water 
prospecting, and almost forgot their burning 
thirst in their anxiety to be off on an independent 
search. 

Ned and Tom were assigned to go east while 
I the other two lads’ route lay to the west. They 
1 were to travel in semi-circles, converging toward 
I the north, in which direction Wing Lung was 
dispatched. 


176 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

A few minutes after receiving the orders, the 
motor cycles whizzed out of camp, off over the 
desert. While the desert looks as flat as a board, 
it is by no means as level as it appears. In fact, 
like the sea, to which it has already been com- 
pared, it is full of waves and ridges. Thus it 
was that the boys had only gone a short distance 
from the auto when they vanished from sight. 

‘'This doesn’t look very cheerful, Ned,” ob- 
served Tom, as they sped along over the hard 
ground, skirting a straggling sage bush every 
now and then. 

“No, but weVe got to look on the bright side 
of it, Tom,” was the rejoinder. “No use getting 
downcast till we know that we are up against it 
really.” 

“I suppose not; but oh! what wouldn’t I give 
for an ice cream soda right now! Think of the 
cool fizz of the fountain, and the clink of the 
ice, and the ” 

“Tom Chase, if you don’t shut up. I’ll get off 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 177 

and give you a licking/' cried Ned, his voice 
hoarse from his dry throat and parched palate. 

“Come on and try it," cried Tom and speeded 
off on the Blue Bird, taking rises and vanishing 
into coulees for all the world like a boat skim- 
ming over the waves. 

Ned was not far behind him. The two ma- 
chines fairly spun along. But the boys' eyes were 
wide open all the time, gazing on every side of 
them for some sign of the water-hole. It should 
have been marked by a tall pole, as they knew, 
but so far no such thing was in sight. 

Suddenly topping a rise, they saw before them, 
rising from the next hollow, a column of smoke. 

“Gracious! There’s someone down in there!'' 
exclaimed Ned, in a half startled tone. 

Somehow it had never occurred to him that 
anyone else but themselves could be abroad on 
the desert. It felt almost disconcerting thus sud- 
denly to come upon traces of a fellow being. 


178 ' 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


Tom slowed down. Rather an alarmed look 
came into his face. 

‘‘Suppose it’s Indians!” he gasped out. 

“Indians 1 Nonsense ! What would Indians be 
doing out here? It’s prospectors, more likely.” 

“Anyhow, whoever or whatever they are, they 
can tell us where to get water, as like as not,” 
decided Tom. 

The boys applied power once more and the 
motor cycles climbed the ridge. They found 
themselves looking down on a rather remarkable 
scene. 

By a fire made of sage brush roots, which grew 
plentifully in the interstices of the desert hills, 
sat an old man with a huge gray beard which, 
matted and unkempt, reached almost to his waist. 
His clothes were filthy in the extreme, and on 
his long, uncombed mop of gray hair he wore 
a scare-crow hat. 

A horse, as shaggy and wretched-looking as 
himself, was cropping at the sage brush, hav- 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 179 

ing disposed of some grain which had been cast 
on the ground before it. A battered saddle was 
on the horse’s back and across the crupper were 
slung, one on either side, capacious bags. By 
the old man lay a rifle, a long-barreled, formi- 
dable-looking affair. 

But what caused the boys as much excitement 
13 as anything that they had beheld since setting 

n out was that the old man sat on the bank of 
a muddy hole, in the bottom of which there was 
the gleam of water. By the side of the hole lay 
what had once been a tall pole, but which the 
old man had apparently cut down and used for 
firewood, for an axe lay beside it. 

Ned flushed with indignation as he saw this. 
No doubt but that this was the water hole for 
which they had been searching, and the old man 
I had selfishly cut down for his own use the tall 
I pole that had been set there as a guide to the 
place. Both lads knew, from Tom’s uncle, 
enough of the desert code to know that such 


180 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
an act was a gross infraction of the desert laws. 
Without that tall pole to guide them, adventurers 
might have passed by the water hole altogether. 
A lone prospector, unable to cover the ground as 
they could, would have perished miserably, im- 
agining that he was out of his path. 

As they stopped their machines on the brink 
of the hollow and gazed down into it, the old 
man became aware of their presence. He turned 
on them a pair of watery, red-rimmed eyes which 
lit up with a fierce gleam as they encountered 
the two boys. What with his leathery, dirty 
skin and disreputable appearance generally, the 
old man reminded the boys of nothing so much 
as some huge ape or baboon. 

Jibber ing incoherently, the old man leaped to 
his feet and seizing his rifle, leveled it at the 
boys. 

At first they could hardly believe their eyes. 
It was incredible that out on the lonely desert 
they should have met with anything but friendli- 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


181 


ness from a fellow wanderer. Yet there was no 
mistaking the baleful gleam in the old man’s eyes. 
They seemed to sparkle like live coals in their 
red frames as he waved and gesticulated. 

‘'Go ’way!’^ he screamed, dancing about like 
an angry child. “Away! away! I’ll shoot! I’ll 
kill! Away! away! away!’’ 

He aimed the rifle full at Ned and squinted 
wickedly along the barrel. Ned pulled Tom down 
behind the rise of the little hill. It was lucky 
' he did so, for at the same instant a bullet came 
whistling and shrieking above their heads. 

“Well, what do you know about that?” gasped 
out Tom, his face pale at their narrow escape, 
for there was no room to doubt that the old 
. man had shot point blank at them. 



I 



182 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


CHAPTER XX. 

WHO ALSO PROVi:s DANGE^ROUS. 

The boys lost no time in getting back to the 
camp, as the spot where the auto had been left 
may be called. Their experience had amazed 
and unnerved them. They were entirely at a 
loss to understand it. 

Retracing their way quickly enough by follow- 
ing the tracks their wheels had made as they 
came away, they were not long in finding the 
place where they had left Dr. Duncan and Tom's 
uncle. 

Both looked up with questioning glances as 
the boys made their appearance. 

''Well?" asked Dr. Duncan as they alighted 
from their machines. 

"Well," rejoined Ned with a half smile, "we 
found water all right enough " 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 183 

^‘Good. I knew the hole was somewhere here- 



abouts. You can guide us to it/’ exclaimed 
Tom’s uncle. 

'‘Um — er, I’m afraid a few preliminaries will 
have to be gone through first,” said Ned hesi- 
tatingly. 


^ ‘'Why? What’s the trouble? Have to dig 
it out? That’s soon done.” 

“No, not that exactly. But there’s a tenant in 
possession and he refuses to vacate. Backs up 
his refusal with a bullet, in fact.” 

Genuine amazement showed on the faces of 
both men. Ned, seeing this, hastened to explain. 

“Jove,” exclaimed Mr. Chilvers when he had 
finished, “a nester, eh? Those old cranks are 
not so uncommon as you might think. They 
squat by a water hole and then take toll of all 
that come along. On the Sesape trail in Cali- 
• iornia once, one of them held me up at the rifle’s 
point for four dollars a bucket for water. He 


184 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 

had the only well for miles around and I had to 

pay his price/’ 

*'And you think ” began Dr. Duncan. 

'‘That this old fellow is trying the same game. 
He fired at the boys to scare them and show them 
that he meant business.” 

“But you won’t submit ” 

“I should say not. More especially as the old 
rascal has chopped down the signal post.” 

“What can we do?” asked Ned anxiously. 

“We must go over there in force. Some way 
will suggest itself. First I want to take a good 
look at the old chap and have some words with 
him. He may prove amenable to argument.” 

“I don’t think so,” declared Ned indignantly, 
recollecting the scream of the bullet as it had 
passed uncomfortably close above his head. 

“Well, we shall see. Duncan, we had better 
take our rifles. Not to use them, of course, but 
a show of force may scare the old fellow into 
being reasonable.” 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 185 

The doctor nodded and took the two rifles out 
of the rack under the seat where they were kept. 
Thus armed, the party set forth for the water- 
hole, the two men riding behind Ned and Tom 
on their machines. As they neared the place, 
Mr. Chilvers said that it would be best to stop 
and leave the machines where they were, pro- 
ceeding on foot. 

The boys were told to walk behind the two 
men who, with determined steps, advanced up 
the rise beyond which lay the camp of the old 
desert curmudgeon. Ned and Tom couldn’t help 
grinning, as they walked along, over the peculiar 
antics of old ‘‘monkey-face,” as Tom had dubbed 
him. 

“It would have been no laughing matter, 
though, if that bullet had hit us,” Ned reminded 
him. 

“No, I guess the old dog-in-the-manger meant 
business, as Uncle Hugh said,” agreed Tom. 

Mr. Chilvers was the first to gain the summit 


186 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
of the ridge with Dr. Duncan close beside him. 
The boys, disregarding the caution of their elders, 
stood alongside but a short distance off. At the 
sound of footsteps, the old man raised his mali- 
cious little red eyes once more. 

^'What d’ye want? What d’ye want? Oh! 
what d’ye want?” he shrilled out in his peevish 
piping tones. 

'‘Some of that water,” responded Mr. Chilvers 
firmly. "I’d also like to know by what right you 
chopped that post down. Don’t you know it 
marks the site of the water-hole, and can be 
seen for miles?” 

The old man mumbled something and then 
burst into fresh invective. 

“He! he! he!” he chuckled vindictively, “I’ve 
got the water. Possession’s nine points of the 
law. If you want water, you must pay me 
money.” 

“How much do you want a pail?” asked Mr. 
Chilvers, unwilling to precipitate hostilities. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 187 

‘‘Five dollars a pail ! Five dollars a pail for 
this nice, cool water. Five dollars a pail or you’ll 
die of thirst.” 

“Well, if you aren’t a nice, genteel old pirate,” 
breathed the miner to himself and his party. 

( Then, aloud, he hailed the old man once more. 

“We’ll give you twenty-five cents a pail and 
not a cent more.” 

“Then you’ll get no water ; he ! he ! he !” 

The hideous, ape-like old figure sprang to its 
feet and ran around to the other side of the 
water-hole, squatting back amid its filthy rags, 
the rifle raised and leveled. Chilvers, more as a 
test than anything else, advanced a step down 
the incline, at the bottom of which lay the water- 
hole and its repulsive old guardian. 

Instantly the old man broke out into fresh 
gibberings. 

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll fire! Five dol- 
lars a bucket, that’s my bedrock price.” 

“The old varmint,” grated out Chilvers angrily, 


188 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
''I guess he means it, too. I know his type. We 
must try other means. Sometimes a bluff will 
work wonders.” 

The rifles had been left a few paces back, it 
not being deemed wise to anger the old man by 
showing them at first. Now, however, Tom’s 
uncle determined on stern measures. Motioning 
to the others, he whispered to them to drop back 
to where the rifles were. He and Dr. Duncan 
each picked up one ; the boys both had revolvers. 

''Don’t fire, whatever happens,” cautioned Mr. 
Chilvers, "I think that we can bring him to terms 
without that.” 

So saying he crept up the sandy ridge, the 
others close beside him. 

"Now then, old man,” he said boldly, "there’s 
four of us here and all armed. Will you take 
twenty-five cents a bucket, or do we have to get 
that water by force?” 

The answer came quickly. Far more quickly 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 189 

than the miner, prepared as he was, had antici- 
pated. 

Bang! 

A bullet whizzed through the air, struck the' 
butt of Mr. Chilvers’ rifle and went screaming 
off across the desert. 

‘‘He! he! he'’ chuckled the hideous old man, 
“the next one will come closer. Don’t raise that 
rifle or you’re a dead man.” 

The miner looked perplexed. The old man 
was either crazy or vicious to a degree. At any 
rate, he was as deadly with his rifle as a rattle- 
snake with its fangs. That he was a dead shot 
and didn’t hesitate to display his skill at the 
risk of taking a human life was also uncom- 
fortably evident. 

“We shan’t accomplish anything this way/’’ 
said the miner to Dr. Duncan perplexedly ; “per- 
haps we had better try what a flank movement 
will do. It might be a good scheme if„ while 
you and the boys stand here and engage his at- 


190 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


tention, I creep round behind him and rush on 
him and disarm him/^ 

''That sounds like a good plan/’ agreed the 
doctor, "but it’s pretty risky to you. If he should 
hear you coming ” 

"I’ll take chances on that,” declared Chilvers 
briefly, preparing to go. 

It was just at this instant, however, that a di- 
version occurred. On the other side of the hol- 
low there appeared a figure on a motor cycle. 
It was Wing Lung riding furiously. He saw 
the steep incline before him when it was too late, 
and with a loud yell of : 

"Wallee mailer!” he plunged over the brink. 

The old man standing by the water hole was 
utterly unprepared, as were the rest, for this ap- 
parition. Down the steep pitch plunged the motor 
cycle like a projectile from a gun. Wing clung 
to the handle bars for his life, forgetting even 
to yell in his alarm. 

Like a flash the old man switched around to 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 191 

face this new and unpremeditated attack. As 
he did so, Chilvers shouted, ‘‘Now,’’ and began 
to run down the bank. When he was half way 
down, the old man turned around once more. He 
aimed at the miner and his finger was pressing 
the trigger when something that must have 
felt like the onslaught of a mad bull struck him 
from behind. It was Wing Lung and his “Lat- 
tlesnake.” 

Coming at the pace they were when motor 
cycle and rider struck the old man, he had no 
time to utter more than an alarmed squeak of 
terror. The rifle exploded, but the bullet went 
up in the air. At the same instant the old man, 
tossed as if by the same angry bull to which we 
have compared Wing and his cycle, shot upward 
likewise. 

Describing what geometricians would call a 
graceful parabola, the old man sailed through 
the air for a few feet and then began to descend. 
In the meantime Wing Lung, yelling like one 


192 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
possessed, had shot beneath him, landing with a 
•crash in the^water hole, which, be it said, was 
mostly mud. Hardly had the luckless Chinee 
sunk head over heels in the oozy stuff before 
whack! down came the old man, landing on 
top of the Celestial with a dull thud. 

Then from the water hole proceeded what Tom 
afterward described as ^'a racket like a cat fight.’’ 
The old man and the Chinaman, each persuaded 
he was tackling a mortal enemy, rolled over and 
over in the mud, clawing, scratching and biting 
for all they were worth. When the others, shak- 
ing with laughter, reached the edge of the hole, 
they saw, as if they were looking into a bear 
pit, the furious contest of the two. Mud and 
water flew in clouds. Amid the smother, about 
all the onlookers could see was a tangle of arms 
and legs. 

As soon as he could speak for laughter, Mr. 
Chilvers declared that the battle had gone far 
enough. Leaping into the hole, followed by the 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 193 

boys, he soon had both contestants dragged out. 
And sorry looking sights they were. 

Plastered with mud from head to foot, drip- 
ping with water and both still furiously angry, 
they resembled nothing so much as a pair of 
fighting tom-cats over whom someone has thrown 
a bucket of water. Wing Lung yelled; the old 
man shrieked. 

At last order was restored and some of the 
mud scraped off the old fellow. Wing Lung’s 
machine was fished out and found not to be much 
damaged. In fact, as Tom declared, it would 
have been impossible to injure that redoubtable 
machine in any fresh place, so many scars of 
battle it had already received. 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, both 
of you,’’ declared Dr. Duncan, trying to look 
seriously at the two battered objects before him, 
but failing lamentably. 

“I guess the price of water’s gone down,’^ 
grinned Tom mischievously. 


194 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


In the meantime Wing Lung's part in the epi- 
sode was explained. He had been riding in 
search of the hole and as usual had lost his way. 
He had no idea as he came speeding along that 
the hollow lay before him. When he did see it, 
it was too late to do anything but keep right on. 

^‘And it was a very good thing that you did, 
Wing," said Mr. Chilvers approvingly. “You 
drew the teeth of his Honor here most effect- 
ively." 

“Oh, me velly cleveh Chinee," grinned Wing; 
“me catchum clean clothes bimeby, so be." 

“Well, you'd better, or you won't stay with 
this outfit," said Dr. Duncan as sternly as he 
could. 

“Well, old man," said Mr. Chilvers to the now 
tamed old water-watcher, “the price of water has 
come down, I guess, hasn't it?" 

“Take it. Take all you want at twenty-five 
cents a bucket," was the generous reply. 

“Well, of all the nerve!" gasped Tom. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


195 


But Ned interrupted. 

*‘I guess weVe had as much fun as we could 
have got in any circus at twenty-five cents a 
seat/' he said. 

“I agree with you," laughed Mr. Chilvers; 
“two bits a bucket, it is. But let this be a lesson 
to you, old man, don’t ever try to play 'dog in 
the manger’ unless you are mighty sure of your 
position.’’ 

The old man snuffled and shifted from one 
foot to the other so abjectly that they really felt 
sorry for him. He was a “busted’’ prospector, 
he informed them, and when he found that they 
wanted water he thought he saw a way to make 
some money out of them. 

“But how did you expect anyone to find the 
water hole without the signal pole being up?’’ 
asked Tom. 

“Oh, I didn’t think of that,’’ snuffled the old 
man, who appeared to be half witted. 

Soon after Wing had gone back to the auto 


196 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


for clean clothes, Nat and A1 put in an appear- 
ance, having followed directions to swing to the 
north. Dinner was eaten at the water hole, 
which was dug out to quite a depth by the boys. 
The auto was then brought up, to the great 
wonderment of the surly old prospector, and the 
water tank filled. Before they left, the old man 
received the money to which, as a matter of fact, 
he was in no wise entitled after his behavior, 
and the last they saw of him he was trotting off 
across the desert on his lean nag. Soon after, 
they took up the trail once more, having first 
reerected the pole and nailed a bit of canvas 
to it as an additional guide. 

Thus, laughably, ended an adventure that for 
a time had its serious aspect. 


1 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


197 


CHAPTER XXL 
The: de:vit"s punch bowi,. 

At twilight, after a trying afternoon’s travel, 
they found themselves on the verge of a curious 
formation. All day they had been pressing for- 
ward through weird-looking ranges that ap- 
peared as if they had but newly emerged from 
the blast furnace of Nature. Streaks of red, 
yellow, orange and blue lay in strata in these 
strange hills. Great boulders were scattered 
all about, sometimes in fantastic shapes like men 
or wild beasts, or again bearing a resemblance 
to feudal castles. Piled high by some prehistoric 
forces, such sights met them on every side. 

Not a blade of grass, not a drop of water, 
nor a sprig of green appeared in these desolate 
and forbidding ranges. All was gray, lonely 
and monotonous, except for the ever-changing 


198 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
forms and colors of the hills. The trail had 
been left some miles back, where it branched off 
toward the distant Greenhorn range. 

The hills that they were now traveling through 
were known by the cheerful appellation of the 
Coffin Mountains. The name appeared to suit 
them. The boys found them depressing to a 
degree. Nothing like these dreary hills had ever 
been seen by them before. They carried a sense 
of foreboding, of impending evil amid their 
dreary solitudes. 

‘'Few white men have traveled this path be- 
fore,’’ Mr. Chilvers had said as they left the 
trail. “Fewer still ever came back,” he added 
gloomily. The boys knew that he was thinking 
of his dead partner, whose life had been claimed 
by the desert. 

As the sun was setting, tinting the sinister 
Coffin Mountains with blood red hues and dark, 
purple shadows, they found themselves, as we 
have said, on the edge of a curious formation. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 199 

Apparently, at some remote day, a river had 
dashed down the ravine in which this freak of 
nature was situated. Seemingly, too, great 
stones, carried by the impetuous torrent, had 
been given a swirling motion in some depres- 
sion of the river bed. A circular impulse, which 
continued through uncounted centuries, had hol- 
lowed out the softer sandstone beneath as if by 
the chisel of a wood carver. 

The river had dried up ages since; but the 
strange trace of its handiwork, a big bowl fifty 
feet across and almost as deep, remained. At 
the bottom lay the huge rocks that had hollowed 
out this natural bowl amid the desert hills. 

'T suppose, according to the rule in vogue in 
all parts of our country, this hollow might be 
called ‘The Devil’s Punch Bowl,’ '' remarked 
Dr. Duncan as he stood on the brink of it. 

They all agreed that it savored of his satanic 
majesty in its uncanny depth and queer forma- 
tion. The boys peered curiously over the edge 


200 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
of it. The declining sun had left the bottom 
shrouded in violet shadows, with inky black 
gloom between the huge rocks that lay piled at 
the bottom. 

Suddenly there came a loud cry from A1 
Anderson. He had been leaning over the edge 
like the others, but had perhaps craned his neck 
a trifle further. Whatever the cause, the ground 
under him suddenly gave way and he shot down 
the steep incline as fast, or faster, than the land- 
slide of rocks and earth that went with him. 

For an instant all was consternation. Then 
Dr. Duncan’s voice rang out. 

''What has happened?” 

"It’s A1 Anderson !” yelled Tom. "He’s fallen 
into the hole !” 

"Are you hurt, Al?” yelled Ned, placing his 
hands funnelwise at his mouth. 

"No; that is, at least I don’t think so. I’m cut 
and bruised but no bones broken.” 

This message, coming from the depths of the 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 201 

hole, relieved their minds immensely. It was 
now almost too dark to see, for the night falls 
rapidly in those parts. But Al’s voice had a re- 
assuring ring to it. 

‘T wish you’d hurry up and get me out, 
though,” he shouted the next minute. ‘T can’t 
climb up. It’s too steep.” 

‘^All right, my boy,” the doctor assured him; 
''just be patient a few minutes and we’ll have you 
out.” 

"Very well, sir,” was the reply. 

"Wing, get that rope out of the auto,” ordered 
Dr. Duncan the next minute. 

This was a rope which, together with a block 
and tackle, formed part of their equipment, and 
which they hoped would prove useful for a vari- 
ety of purposes when they reached the lost mine. 

Little did they think, though, when it was in- 
cluded among the supplies, that it would serve 
its first purpose by saving a human life. Wing 
was still hauling the line out of its case when 


202 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
from the Punch Bowl there came a shrill, pierc- 
ing cry of terror. 

''Wallee mailer!’’ gasped Wing, and then, 
‘'One boy heap scared — so be !” 

“Hurry with that rope. Wing!” came a shouted 
order from Dr. Duncan. 

“Alice litee, me come!” answered the Chinee, 
all his senses on the alert. 

What had happened was this. While Wing 
was getting the rope and all the others were on 
the edge of the bowl shouting encouragement to 
poor A1 the boy had suddenly shouted : 

“There’s something down here; an animal or 
something. Oh, do hurry and get me out. 
I ” 

Then had come the cry of terror that reached 
Wing’s ears as he busied himself with the rope. 

“What is it, my boy? What’s the matter?” 
cried Dr. Duncan, genuinely alarmed. 

“It’s — it’s something. I don’t know what it 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 203 

is, but it’s gliding about. Oh! there are more of 
them ! They are on every side of me !” 

Mr. Chilvers, with a sharp exclamation, drew 
Dr. Duncan aside. 

‘'Great Scott! Duncan, lose no time in getting 
that boy out of there,” he exclaimed. 

His voice shook with agitation. The doctor 
gazed at the ordinarily cool-headed adventurer 
with undisguised alarm. He knew that the peril 
must be grave indeed that could thus unman him. 

“For Heaven’s sake, Chilvers,” he breathed 
intensely, “what is it? Speak up, man!” 

“That — that boy is in the gravest danger that 
he will ever be in all his life,” was the rejoinder. 

Chilvers paused to choke back his emotion. 
Then he added, clutching the doctor’s arm in a 
tight grip : 

“Unless I am mistaken — and I pray heaven 
I may be — he has fallen into a den of desert 
rattlers, the deadliest snake of this continent!” 


204 


THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 


CHAPTER XXII. 

A D^N 01^ RATThtRS, 

''For goodness sake, hurry up!'’ 

ATs voice came pleadingly out of the dark 
depths. 

"Yes, Al, yes, old man, we're hurrying all we 
can," rejoined Ned, as he, the doctor and Chilvers 
wrought with desperate earnestness to get the 
rope straightened out and heave it over the edge. 

There was good reason, as the miner had fig- 
ured out, for Al's terror as he crouched in the 
bottom of the bowl among the jagged rocks and 
boulders. At first, in his relief at finding him- 
self unhurt, he had not paid much attention to 
his surroundings, possessing himself in patience 
till aid could come from above. 

His first notification that he was not the only 
living thing at the bottom of the bowl came when 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 205 

he was aware of a sort of odd rustling sound, 
not unlike the swishing noise produced by a 
lady's silk dress. He could not imagine what it 
was. It was almost dark at the bottom of the 
pit, but in the semi-gloom he looked about him. 

At first he could see nothing; but presently he 
saw something move in the crack of a rock close 
to him. He eyed the moving object for an in- 
stant without exactly taking in what it was. 
Suddenly, however, he became aware that what 
he had seen was a wicked, triangular head, with 
deep, leaden eyes set in two protuberances. The 
head was swaying back and forth and the eyes 
were fixed upon him. 

Al, like all California boys, had seen rattle- 
snakes and killed them. But although he in- 
stantly recognized the snake that was eying him 
as a rattler, it was like no other that he had ever 
seen. Unbelievably large, fearfully vindictive 
looking, it made his blood run cold as he watched 
it. It held his gaze with a sort of fascination 


206 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
similar, we may imagine, to that of a bird v.hen 
hypnotized by one of these great snakes. 

Hardly had the lad made the alarming discov- 
ery that the bottom of the bowl was shared by 
such a formidable serpent, than from all sides 
he began to hear a sort of slithering noise, aq 
hundreds of snakes slid over the rocks. The 
noise came from their scales as they squirmed 
their way toward him. Now and then the curi- 
ous dry sound of a rattle reached him — like the 
sound of dried peas shaken in a pod. 

It was at that instant that Al, his nerves 
racked beyond all control, had given vent to the 
cry of terror that had so alarmed those above. 

'Tt's snakes — rattlers,’' he shouted up, in re- 
sponse to a question Chilvers now hurled down 
at him in a trembling voice, ^'scores, hundreds of 
them.” 

“Keep quite still, Al,” ordered Chilvers, in a 
voice as cold as steel ; “don’t move any more than 
you have to. Help will be there in a minute.” 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 207 

“All right, sir,’’ rejoined A1 bravely. 

“Hurry up with that rope,” snapped the miner, 
whose nerves were strained almost to the snap- 
ping point. The thought of that lad in the dark 
pit surrounded by rattlers in unknown quanti- 
ties completely unnerved him, as, indeed, it did 
the others. In their confusion and excitement 
they tangled the rope several times before it was 
ready to be lowered. 

“Where are you, Al?” hailed the miner in a 
tense voice when all was ready. 

“Right below you. I can see your figure 
against the sky. They — they are coming closer.” 

“Stick tight now. Don’t move till you’ve got 
the rope under your arms, and then we’ll have you 
out in a jiffy/’ hailed Chilvers in a cheery voice. 

To Al the pit now appeared to be literally alive 
with rattlers. On every side he could hear the 
repulsive sound of their bodies as they dragged 
them over the rough rocks. That he could not 
see them only added to the horror of the situa- 


I 

208 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
tion. For all he knew they might be crawling 
about his very feet. One thing he did know. 
The whole air was impregnated with the smell 
of musk, the rank, offensive odor peculiar to 
snakes. It sickened him. But, with a courage 
that could not have been outdone by a veteran 
plainsman, A1 did as he had been told and hardly 
moved a muscle as he leaned against the edge of 
the bowl. 

At last, above his head, he heard a faint rasp- 
ing sound. For one dreadful instant, so taut 
strung were his nerves, he thought it was an- 
other serpent. But the next instant, with a 
quick throb of thankfulness, he realized that it 
was the rope lowered by his friends from above. 

As it danced and swayed in front of him, A1 
realized that the most risky portion of his en- 
forced sojourn in the snake den lay before him. 
The slightest move might cause some snake that 
lay near him to strike. But what had to be done 
must be done. Steeling himself, he formed a 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 209 

loop under his arms with trembling hands and 
drew it over tight, knotting it securely. 

Hardly had he done this, before he sensed, 
rather than saw, an object at his very foot. Half 
frantic with fear, the boy kicked out with might 
and main. A sharp hiss and a hard blow on his 
boot followed. The rattler had struck, but thanks 
to his stout boots the fangs had not touched Al's 
skin. 

‘‘Haul up!’’ he cried, his nerve now entirely 
gone. In fact he was on the verge of a collapse 
from sheer panic-stricken terror. 

Any one of my readers who is inclined to blame 
A1 for timidity should spend an hour, as the 
author once did, in an abandoned mining “adit” 
or tunnel, with the way to the entrance barred 
by two big diamond backs. One such experience 
is enough for several lifetimes. In the west the 
author has also met men — not old men — whose 
hair was white as snow after passing through 
just such an experience as Al’s. 


210 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

They hauled with a will. It was in the nick 
of time, too. When A1 struck out with his foot, 
the scaled hordes that were waiting some such 
move came on v/ith a rush. Their bodies scraped 
and scratched like files as, hissing and rattling, 
they wrigged over the rocks and out of scores of 
crevices and seams. 

But A1 did not hear them. The boy, drawn 
to the brink of the bowl a few seconds later, was 
past all knowledge of what was taking place 
about him. The strain over, A1 had fainted, and 
it was some time before they brought him back 
to his senses. It was longer still — weeks in 
fact — before the boy got over an experience 
which might well have racked beyond endurance 
stouter nerves and more tried bodies than his. 

As for Chilvers, he had your true Westerner’s 
hatred of a rattler. 

“There’s going to be a slaughter of rattlers 
to-night such as has rarely been seen in this part 
of the country,” he declared vehemently, as A1 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 211 

was brought to. ‘'Those beasts have been mul- 
tiplying there unmolested for scores, maybe hun- 
dreds of years. A few hundred of them will go 
out to-night.’’ 

They did not understand just what he meant 
till, from the auto, he brought two sticks of 
giant powder, or dynamite, about as big as an 
ordinary candle. These formed part of the sup- 
plies, of necessity, on a mining enterprise, such 
as theirs. 

To the end of the sticks he carefully attached 
two fulminate of mercury copper caps, handling 
them very gingerly. This done, wires were at- 
tached to the two caps, or fuses, and led to a 
battery box. 

The boys watched these proceedings with great 
interest.v‘'>.’This did not abate when the miner low- 
ered the two sticks cautiously till they rested on 
the bottom of the punchbowl. This done, he 
carried the battery back to a safe distance, warn- 
ing them all to retreat beyond him. 


212 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

''All ready/’ he declared at length. "Al, my 
boy, how would you like to be the instrument of 
vengeance on that pitful of beasts?” 

Al, still white and shaky, looked at him curi- 
ously. 

"I mean, do you want to press the switch and 
send a few hundred of their snakeships to King- 
dom Come?” 

"You bet I would,” declared Al with a shiver; 
"it’ll be a tong lime — I mean a long time — before 
I forget those rattlers.” 

"All right. Now grab this key. That’s it. 
When I say 'Go !’ you press it down and see what 
happens. Are you ready?” 

"Ready!” rejoined Al. 

"Go!” 

The boy pressed down the key. From the bat- 
tery there came a sputter of blue flame. 

Down through the wires sped the bolt of elec- 
tricity that would ignite the fulminate caps, that 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 213 

would in turn detonate and set off the dyna- 
mite. 

A roar, a red flash, and a concussion that 
shook the earth under their feet followed the 
pressing of the switch. From the mouth of the 
bowl a shower of stones shot up amid a foun- 
tain of red flame. Then a great quiet suc- 
ceeded. 

'T guess there's a few less scaled devils in the 
world right now," grimly remarked the miner as 
he disconnected the battery. 

And so it proved. In the morning, when they 
made an inspection of the bowl, the entire bottom 
was littered with broken rocks, shattered by the 
explosion, while amid the riven, blackened frag- 
ments could be seen the torn, mangled bodies of 
hundreds of rattlers. 

^We may not have killed all the rattlers down 
there, but we’ve drawn some of the fangs of the 
Devil’s Punch Bowl,’’ said the miner with satis- 
1 faction, as he regarded the effect of his dynamite. 


214 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

'Ht was a fitting brew that it contained,” added 
Dr. Duncan, with his hands on ATs shoulder. 
As he spoke, he felt the boy shudder at the rec- 
ollection of his sojourn in the rattlers' den. 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 


315 


CHAPTER XXIII. 
the: dancing hatos. 

Early that morning there was the usual scene 
of bustle about the camp. But little time was 
spent over breakfast and the chug-chugging of 
the motor cycles and the auto soon announced 
the impatience of the party to be off. There was 
a good reason for this. Mr. Chilvers had an- 
nounced at supper the night before that another 
day ought to bring them within sight of the 
range beyond which lay the Lost Mine. 

That morning they were due to enter the Bit- 
ter Creek desert, perhaps the hardest, most ardu- 
ous part of their adventurous journey. They 
felt no reluctance in leaving behind them the 
camp of the Devil's Punch Bowl. Least of all 
Al, whose face was still pale from the recollec- 
tion of his terrible ordeal. 


31G 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


By midday they found themselves on the sum- 
mit of the last hills of the range they had been 
passing through, looking out over a glittering, 
shimmering sea of alkali and sand. 

''The Bitter Creek desert,’’ announced Mr. 
Chilvers, as they paused on the top of the last 
ridge and gazed at the scene before them. Far 
on the horizon, like faint blue clouds, lay what 
the miner told them was the range nearest the 
gold fields for which they were making. 

But two hundred miles still stretched between 
themselves and the distant hills, although, owing 
to the wonderful clarity of the atmosphere and 
the height at which they had halted, it did not 
look to be half that distance. Midway across, 
along the Bitter Creek, there were alkaline 
springs. The travelers would be compelled to 
replenish their water supply at these, making the 
water fit to drink by means of a condensing ap- 
paratus. This device had been evolved by the V 
doctor as a result of his many travels into coun- i 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 217 

tries where the water was not fit in its natural 
state for human consumption. 

‘What are those odd-looking lights dancing 
above the alkali?’’ asked Ned presently. 

His remark called general attention to some- 
thing they had not noticed before. Above the 
shimmering face of the desert they could now 
see that great circles of light appeared to be hov- 
ering. These were seen in every direction. The 
phenomenon was so extraordinary as to be al- 
most startling. The boys even exchanged un- 
easy glances. Small things on the lonely desert 
alarm the traveler who faces them for the first 
time. There was, in fact, something very un- 
canny in these dancing, gleaming circles of 
light. Now they flashed like flames, and again 
they dissolved into all the colors of the rainbow 
like soap bubbles bursting. 

“Our eyes must be playing us tricks,” declared 
Tom, regarding the phenomena of the irradiat- 
ing circles. 


218 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 

Mr. Chilvers smiled. 

“No, your eyes are all right, Tom. Fm sur- 
prised, in fact, that we have not seen this sight 
before. Yonder circles of light are called 'des- 
ert halos.' " 

“That’s just what they look like — the halos 
around the heads of saints in the church windows 
at home,” cried Ned. 

“Have they any particular significance?” in- 
quired Tom. “Do they mean bad weather or — 
or anything like that?” 

“Not always,” was the response; “sometimes 
they appear just as you see them now for no ap- 
parent reason, and then again ” 

The miner paused, shielding his eyes with one 
hand and gazing at the dancing halos. They all 
looked at him, waiting for him to continue. 

“And then again,” he went on, “they may 
mean that some sort of a storm is brewing.” 

“Do you think that on the present occasion 


IX THE GOLD FIELDS 219 

they have any such significance?’' inquired the 
doctor. 

‘‘It’s impossible to say. But I don’t think 
so,” was the rather evasive rejoinder. 

But in spite of Mr. Chilvers’ careless manner, 
the boys noted that his face had taken on a 
grave expression since his attention had been 
drawn to the dancing halos. He looked troubled, 
in fact. But this condition only lasted for a mo- 
ment. He speedily resumed his customary firtn- 
ness of manner, and the word to go forward 
once more was given. 

Most of the morning they traveled onward at 
a fair pace. Ned and Tom rode side by side, 
with the others close behind and the auto bring- 
ing up the rear.. It was almost noon when Ned, 
who had not spoken for some time, addressed his 
companion. 

“Notice anything odd about the weather, 
Tom?” 


220 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

‘'No; except that it seems unusually sultry 
even for this part of the v^orld/’ 

“You’re right. I haven’t felt it so oppressive 
since we started out, and, Tom, look yonder.” 

He pointed to the western horizon. Neither 
boy had looked up for some time, until Ned had 
gazed westward and been startled by what he 
saw. Now that he drew Tom’s attention to it, 
the other boy was equally astonished. 

“There’s a storm brewing, sure as guns,” said 
Tom. 

“Yes, but what kind of a storm? I never saw 
such a sky, even in the tropics.” 

“It’s as black as ink, and yet it doesn’t look 
like a thunderstorm — at least as we know them. 
I wonder if those dancing halos weren’t the fore- 
runners of some terrible hurricane?” 

“I don’t know. All I know is that we are in 
for something, and something pretty bad, to 
judge by the looks of it.” 

Looking directly westward, the appearance of 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 221 

the sky was indeed startling. Tom had described 
it as inky black, but this description was not alto- 
gether correct, although at first sight the heavens 
did appear to have been covered by a sable 
pall. 

The color of the sky before them was more of 
a greenish black, with an underglow of lurid cop- 
per beneath its ragged edges. The sun was still 
shining brightly where they were, which made 
the approach of the tempest the more startling. 
In the west everything was being rapidly over- 
shadowed by the advancing storm. It was as if 
night had fallen directly in front of them, while 
they still rode in brilliant, blinding sunlight. 

While they still looked, a zig-zag ribbon of 
lambent flame flickered across the dark curtain 
of cloud. It was followed by another and an- 
other till the dark fabric was slashed and torn 
by lightning in every direction. 

“Did you ever see anything like it?'' gasped 
Tom. 


222 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

‘‘No; it is wonderful; but just the same Fd 
rather we hadn’t met it.” 

“Same here. Have you noticed that there is 
no thunder, nor any sign of rain?” 

“Yes; and I know, too, that these dry storms 
are the most dangerous.” 

“Take a look back and see what the others are 
doing.” 

Both boys gazed back just in time to catch 
sight of Mr. Chilvers waving and shouting to 
them to halt. They did so instantly, as did the 
others, who had already been watching with 
awed and fascinated eyes the approach of the 
huge cloud curtain which now blotted out the 
entire horizon. As if sable draperies were be- 
ing drawn toward the sun by invisible, giant 
hands, the clouds swept on, and before many 
minutes had passed the sun was blotted out and 
a dim twilight fell over the desert. 

By this time they had obeyed the orders of 
Mr. Chilvers to make everything secure. The 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 223 

motor cycles were lashed to the auto, and every- 
thing that might stand a chance of being blown 
away was made fast. Mr. Chilvers did not say 
much while these preparations were being made, 
but his anxious looks spoke volumes. It was 
clear that he feared that a terrific wind would 
accompany the breaking of the storm. 

Although it was almost dark, the atmosphere 
had a ghastly tinge in it that made their faces, 
when they looked at each other, livid and un- 
earthly. An odd sort of odor was in the air, 
too, a sulphurous smell that made their nostrils 
tingle. When everything had been made snug, 
as Mr. Chilvers called it, they all, by a common 
impulse, watched the scene about them. 

The whole desert was shrouded in a pall of 
darkness and the lightning still ripped and tore 
through the black cloud draperies, but as yet not 
one drop of rain had fallen, nor had the rumble 
of thunder resounded. Except for the vicious 
zip and crackle of the lightning there was not a 


224 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
sound. It was this utter silence that made the 
oncoming of the storm the more awe-inspiring 
and uncanny. 

Motionless and wordless, they stood by the 
side of the automobile watching the inky heavens. 

Suddenly in the sky there appeared an ex- 
traordinary sight. Imagine a vast form resem- 
bling a balloon, slightly inclined to one side and 
spinning on its axis faster than the fastest top, 
and you have an idea of the strange spectacle that 
the clouds presented. At the bottom, the snout- 
like appendage in which the mass ended wavered 
about as though feeling for something it ex- 
pected to meet coming up to it from the earth. 
From its violent gyrations it appeared almost, in 
fact, as if the upper part of the strange forma- 
tion was trying to tear itself loose. 

And now from the face of the desert another 
^^snout” was raised, attached to a similar balloon. 
It was some distance behind the formation which 
depended from the sky, but advanced toward it 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 225 

with great rapidity. It was at this moment that 
the most extraordinary performance of all took 
place. The two silently whirling balloons, each 
a hundred feet in height and so black that they 
stood out sharply silhouetted against the sur- 
rounding gloom, now began a witches’ dance in 
the firmament. Sometimes they leaned far back 
and then danced forward as if saluting each 
other. Then for an instant they would “bal- 
ance,” and then begin a sort of solemn hopping 
up and down. Then they would dart from each 
other as if repelled by some unseen force. Again 
they appeared about to rush into each other’s 
arms, only to whirl off once more and resume 
their weird dance in the skies. 

It seemed to be almost an interminable time 
that this scene lasted, although it may not have 
been so very many minutes. At last a low moan- 
ing noise arose in the air. It sounded not unlike 
the breaking of an angry sea on a rocky coast. 
Coming after the long silence, it conveyed a 


226 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 
distinct thrill to the watchers of this extraordi- 
nary convulsion of nature. 

Suddenly, while the balloon-like forms were 
still going through one of their stately saluting 
ceremonies, they rushed together. Snout closed 
on snout, and they formed one giant, pitchy 
column reaching from the earth to the skies. 

No shock was perceptible when they met, but 
from amid the murky folds lightning flashed 
in livid sheets, as heat lightning plays on the 
horizon at the close of a warm day. 

Having met, the two forms now appeared to 
engage in a Titanic struggle. Round and round 
they spun, wavering, leaning, dancing hither and 
thither, as if they were fighting out a wrestling 
match. 

At times they leaned far over to one side as 
if the whole terrifying fabric was about to fall. 
Then recovering they spun round with bewilder- 
ing swiftness. All the time there was a steady 
roar, like that of a giant cataract. 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 227 

Unable to speak, unable even to move, the boys 
watched this ghostly dance in great alarm. From 
time to time the lightning illumined their pallid 
faces. Once Ned glanced around at Mr. Chil- 
vers. His face was set and drawn as the light 
played upon it flickeringly. He was saying some- 
thing to Dr. Duncan. 

'Tve seen desert storms, but this is the worst 
I have ever witnessed.’’ 

Ned could well believe the truth of that state- 
ment. He would not, till that instant, have be- 
lieved that earth held such a terrifying spec- 
tacle. 

Suddenly there came a shout from Tom: 

*Tt’s coming this way !” 

''Get to cover ! Crawl under the auto and hold 
tight for your lives !” shouted Mr. Chilvers, gal- 
vanizing into sudden action. A scramble for the 
shelter of the heavy car followed. 

"Tornadoes and tarantulas, we’ll be lucky if 
we get out of this with whole skins!” shouted 


228 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 

Nat to Ned as they sought shelter. The boy had 

to strain his voice to make himself heard above 

the crash and fury of the storm, which was now 

overwhelming. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


229 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

the: mine: at IvAST! 

Crouching beneath the auto, the position of the 
travelers was not an enviable one. The closer 
approach of the storm was attended by an ap- 
palling roar. The face of the desert in the near 
vicinity of the dancing columns was being sucked 
up into a whirling vortex. The lightning was 
now incessant, lighting up the scene with un- 
holy fires. 

Nobody spoke a word. In fact, even a shout 
would hardly have carried more than a hand's 
breadth in that ear-splitting turmoil. The air be- 
came full of sand and small pebbles. Instinct- 
ively the boys lay on their faces clutching the 
ground as if they feared being blown away. 

‘Tf that pillar of cloud or whatever it is ever 


230 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHTJMS 
hits us,” thought Ned to himself, ''it means good- 
bye.” 

He was clutching the spokes of one of the 
auto’s hind wheels at the moment. He distinctly 
felt the immensely heavy machine rise an inch 
or so and then settle dowm again with a bump. 

"Not even the auto can remain steady in such 
a case,” he thought, with additional alarm; "it 
will be swept away like a straw and we will go 
whirling after it to be dashed to death some- 
where out on the desert.” 

The thought had hardly flashed through his 
mind when there came a glare of lightning so 
fearfully vivid that it seemed to sear his eyes. 
Blinded for one instant, the next moment a deaf- 
ening crash, like the report of a huge gun, de- 
prived the boy of hearing. 

How long he lay there half stunned he never 
knew, but in reality it was not many minutes be- 
fore Mr. Chilvers was shaking him by the 
shoulder. 


231 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 

^'Ned, my boy, are you all right?'’ 

‘‘Yes; I’m all right,” responded Ned as he 
realized the fact, “but how about the others ?” 

“Nobody hurt, thank Heaven, and the climax 
of the storm has passed.” 

“You mean that whirlwind, that desert water- 
spout ?” 

“That’s a good name for it, although sand- 
spout would be better. Yes, I’m glad to say 
that it passed us some distance to the south. 
Had its center struck us, there would have been 
a different tale to tell.” 

“You mean that it would have sucked up even 
this heavy auto?” 

“Just what I mean, my boy. We should all 
have been caught in it like so many straws and 
whirled upward in that funnel, to land — ^who 
knows where!” 

Ned could not repress a shudder at the thought 
of the fate that they had so narrowly escaped. 
From the moment that he had felt the auto lift 


232 


THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 


and shiver, he had imagined that they were 
doomed to a fearful death. The relief was for a 
moment almost more than he could bear. But 
the shouts of his companions soon aroused him, 
and crawling from under the auto he joined them 
as they watched the storm whirling off toward 
the east. 

Such a display of elemental fury cannot in the 
nature of things last long, and they could now 
view in the distance the subsidence of the dan- 
cing columns and the flickering of the lightning 
as it died away off on the eastern horizon. Sud- 
denly the whirling pillars seemed to be drawn 
upward into the skies, doubtless to descend again 
some distance further on and continue their furi- 
ous work of destruction. 

After a time the sky began to clear. A gentle 
wind, the aftermath of the hurricane, blew 
against their faces, and by the time Wing had 
dinner cooked — using the blue flame oil stove 
for the purpose, as no sage was handy — the last 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 233 

trace of the storm had almost vanished. The 
meal was eaten with a zest unblunted by the or- 
deal they had been through, and when it was 
finished the sun was shining out once more, and 
only a dark pall of cloud behind them remained 
to tell of what had been. 

‘‘Well,’’ remarked Ned at the conclusion of a 
discussion of the storm, “if that’s a desert storm 
excuse me from any more of them. I thought 
that the auto would surely be blown off us like 
the shell off so many turtles, and that we would 
be scattered about like bits of torn paper.” 

“I guess we all were of the same opinion for 
a time,” agreed Dr. Duncan. “I know that per- 
sonally I dug my nails into the ground — as if 
that would have helped me at all — and held on 
for dear life.” 

“I’ve been through desert storms,” said Mr. 
Chilvers, “many of them, but that one was the 
worst I have ever experienced. The wind must 


234 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

have blown a hundred miles an hour while it was 

at its height/' 

‘^Seemed to me like a thousand," grinned Tom. 
'^What's the cause of such violent storms out 
here, anyhow?" 

“Meteorologists are undecided," rejoined Dr. 
Duncan, “but the general opinion seems to be 
that such vast tracts of superheated land induce 
some sort of a vacuum which nature rushes in to 
fill, producing electrical disturbances of a most 
violent character." 

The motor cycles were now unlashed, the boys 
praising the precaution that was responsible for 
their safety. Had it not been for Mr. Chilvers' 
foresight, the light machines would have un- 
doubtedly been scattered broadcast and smashed 
beyond hope of repair. Such an accident would 
have been serious in the extreme, considering 
their situation. 

All the young riders found it necessary to re- 
plenish the gasolene tanks of their mounts, and 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 235 

one after another they filled them at the fuel tank 
carried on the auto. This being done, a fresh 
start was made, the next stopping place being 
announced as the Bitter Creek springs. 

As usual, Ned and Tom rode in advance. To- 
ward the middle of the afternoon a slight haze 
became visible in front of them. On being ap- 
pealed to, Mr. Chilvers announced that the haze 
marked the course of Bitter Creek ; and the boys, 
with a whoop of delight at the prospect of see- 
ing something to vary the monotony of the des- 
ert, dashed forward at full speed. They arrived 
at the brink of the creek some time before the 
auto put in its appearance. 

The creek ran between two steep banks. In 
fact, it appeared that the channel had been cut 
out of the desert, a carved groove, so to speak, 
at the bottom of which a thin thread of water 
ran. The banks were almost fifty feet in height 
in some places, and in others they shelved down 
to not more than ten feet. 


236 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

'Tm dying for a drink/' announced Tom, ‘'and 
I’m going to sample some of that water.” 

“Better not,” warned Ned; “I’ll bet it isn’t 
called Bitter Creek for nothing.” 

But the water, what there was of it, looked 
clear and inviting as it rippled along over its 
“hard-pan” bed. In that pitilei^s land, in fact, 1 
any sort of water almost looks inviting. j 

Coming to a likely-looking place to descend, ■ 
Tom dismounted and scrambled down the bank. 

It was a precipitous climb, and Tom’s descent 
might more accurately be described as a slide. | 
He lost no time in throwing himself flat by the 
side of the tempting-looking water and trying it. i 
One mouthful was enough. ^ 

“Pah !” he exclaimed, and spat out what he had J] 
taken with the look of some one who had inad- i 

k 

vertently tackled an “overripe” egg. | 

Ned doubled up with laughter at the sight of | 
his chum’s disgusted face. 1 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 237 

‘'What’s the trouble, Tom?” he hailed, when 
he was able to speak. “Isn’t it nice?” 

“Nice! Oh, gracious! Some one up above 
here has been dumping rotten eggs in it, I guess.” 

“Stung!” laughed Ned. “Maybe you’ll take 
some stock in what your uncle says after this.” 

“I sure will. Oh ! I’ll never get that taste out 
of my mouth. It’s — it’s awfiilT 

“Must have a lot of sulphur and alkali in it, 
I reckon,” remarked Ned. 

As he was speaking, Nat, A1 and Wing Lung 
came riding up. They saw what was going for- 
ward and eagerly inquired as to what kind of 
water it was in the creek. 

“Fine!” exclaimed Tom, smacking his lips as if 
with huge relish, “cool and sweet, better than ice 
cream soda.” 

That was enough for the parched and dusty 
newcomers. They lost no time in dismounting 
and hastening down the bank. Such was Wing’s 
hurry, in fact, that his loose blouse caught on a 


238 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
projecting boulder and he hung suspended, un- 
able to move. He appealed to the others to help 
him, but so intent were they on sampling Tom's 
‘"fountain" that they gave no attention to the 
luckless or, as it turned out, lucky Chinee. 

Tom turned to Ned with a wink as Nat and A1 
plumped down on their knees and eagerly took 
in big mouthfuls of the waters of Bitter Creek. 

“Wait for the explosion!" he cried in a whis- 
per that carried. 

The explosion was not long in coming. 

“Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h ! Epsom salts!" 

“Jumping bob cats and pelicans! It's poi- 
soned !" 

“Tastes like matches and rotten eggs mixed." 

“No; dead rats and punk tomatoes!" 

The two boys, vying with each other's descrip- 
tive powers to describe the awful taste of Bitter 
Creek, danced about trying to rid themselves of 
the flavor. Suddenly they caught sight of Tom 
laughing as if he would split his sides. Then it 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS • 239 

dawned on them that they were the victims of 
a joke. Making common cause, they pounced 
on Tom before he could make a move to defend 
himself. 

It was at this moment that Wing Lung disen- 
gaged himself from the rock and came down the 
bank like a runaway locomotive. 

“Crouse him in the dreek — I mean douse him 
in the creek!’’ roared Al, as Tom vainly struggled 
in the grip of the two irate lads. 

“Tin pots and turpentine, yes!” bellowed Nat. 
“Oh, that awful water!” 

A wild yell and a crash came at the same in- 
stant. Wing brought up his greased-lightning 
slide dowm the bank in the midst of the group. 
Struggling as they were, none of them was pre- 
pared for the Mongolian battering ram. Nat 
and Al went down in a heap on top of the strug- 
gling Tom, and an instant later all four of them, 
including Wing, were splashing in the waters 
they had sampled so disadvantageously. 


240 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHHMS 

When they picked themselves up it looked for 
a minute as if there was going to be a real battle. 
But it was Wing Lung who saved the day and 
the loss of their tempers. In his involuntary 
plunge, the Chinee had absorbed a considerable 
mouthful of Bitter Creek. The sight of him dan- 
cing about and yelling that he had been poisoned 
was too much for their risibles. They broke into 
peals of hearty boyish laughter, and with their 
merriment their momentary anger vanished. 
But the taste of Bitter Creek remained with them 
for some time thereafter. 

The springs, it transpired, were located further 
up the creek and the water from them, when con- 
densed, was not so bad; but still it wasn’t very 
palatable, and the boys left no regrets behind 
when they left Bitter Creek and pushed on stead- 
ily toward the distant mountains. 

By noon of the next day the range was plainly 
visible, and that afternoon they found themselves 
in it. It was sundown when they crested a slope 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 

and saw lying before them a vast expanse of hills 
and desert land, as empty and monotonous, ap- 
parently, as those they had already traversed. 
As he gazed all about him, taking in every detail 
of the dreary landscape, Mr. Chilvers' face was 
flushed with unwonted excitement. Suddenly he 
half rose in the seat of the auto and pointed. 

‘'The Lost Mine!’’ he cried in a voice which 
shook with suppressed eagerness. “There it is, 
right ahead of us!” 

The boys followed the direction of the miner’s 
pointing finger. Beyond the range whose sum- 
mit they had reached lay a singular, isolated 
hill. It stood up purple and black against the 
flush of the western sky. The next moment the 
boys broke into an irrepressible cheer. The goal 
they had come so far to attain was in sight! Be- 
fore them lay the end of the long and arduous 
gold trail they had followed so patiently. 




THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


CHAPTER XXV. 

A place: op MYSTPRY. j 

Camp was made that night at the edge of the j 
plateau, in the midst of which, ‘dike a hump on a ^ 
camel’s back,” as Tom put it, the mysterious 
“mesa” or butte that marked the site of the an- 
cient mine was located. Before dawn the next 
morning, while the stars were still bright in the j 
sky, there was a scene of activity about the halt- \ 
ing place. Wing Lung’s cooking fire blazed up 1 
bravely in the chilly air, for they had once more I 
reached the land of sagebrush roots and desert i 

scrub. i 

> 

The notes of Nat’s bugle sounded a cheery ^ 

j 

reveille, but there was no need for that signal to j 
get the boys out of bed. They had lain awake in 1 
their blankets half the night speculating and < 
chatting concerning what the coming day held 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 243 

for them. When the red rim of the sun appeared 
above the eastern edge of the desert they were 
halfway to the lone butte, speeding recklessly 
over the rough ground. Full daylight found an 
anxious group assembled at the foot of the mesa, 
gazing up wonder ingly at the myriads of holes 
that honeycombed it from the ground to its flat, 
table-like summit. 

From a distance, compared with the long 
ranges all about, the lone mesa had not appeared 
large. Now, however, it loomed up like a moun- 
tain before them. If, as Mr. Chilvers and Dr. 
Duncan believed, the whole interior of that Ti- 
tanic anthill was honeycombed with galleries, it 
might take a long time to explore it thoroughly. 

Already they had surveyed the crude appara- 
tus by means of which the miner had collected his 
first finds on his trip to the place with Owens, the 
dead prospector, whose bones lay bleaching on 
the desert sands. But with what lay before them 


244 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

they had scant attention to waste on anything 

outlying the mined mesa itself. 

Picks, shovels, ropes and dynamite had been 
brought from the auto, which, with the motor 
cycles and tents, formed part of the camp below. 
Lanterns also, of course, were an important part 
of their equipment. For a time, as if partici- 
pating in some solemn ceremony, the party stood 
there gazing at the place that, up to the time Mr. 
Chilvers and Owens had invaded it, had not been 
seen by the eyes of a white man. 

At last Tom's uncle broke the spell. 

“We have a long day before us. Don't let's 
waste it." 

By a common impulse they moved forward 
over slightly rising ground. Before them lay the 
mouth of the mesa, a dark opening with huge 
pillars of some sort of black, basaltic stone form- 
ing the door posts and keystone. 

“We'll stop here and light up," said Mr. Chil- 
vers as they paused on the threshold. 


m THE GOLD FIELDS 245 

He spoke, perhaps unconsciously, in a half 
whisper. It did not appear strange to the boys 
that he should hush his voice on the outpost of 
an ancient civilization. In fact, they all felt 
strongly the mystic import of the place, the sense 
of glories past and gone that hung about it. But 
all this didn’t interfere with the practical sides 
of their natures for more than a short time. Be- 
fore long the lanterns were all lighted, and Mr. 
Chilvers nodded to show that he was ready. 
Then, with the miner’s stout figure in advance, 
they plunged from the sunlight into a soft, dense 
darkness. 

The lanterns shone brilliantly, illumining the 
walls of a wide passage with a floor that sloped 
gently upward. They surmised that it led to the 
upper levels of the mesa, but of this, of course, 
they could not be sure. 

The walls appeared to be of a sort of sand- 
stone and did not show, even to the boys’ inex- 
perienced eyes, the slightest trace of being of a 


246 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
gold-bearing variety. Dr. Duncan shook his 
head as he looked about him. 

“Dm afraid that the whole mesa is of this for- 
mation, Chilvers,’’ he said, “and in that case your 
dream of a vast gold mine is shattered.’’ 

But Tom’s uncle was not downcast. 

“Wait till we see the whole of it,” he said; “it 
will be ample time to talk then.” 

Presently the passage began to twist and turn 
in a zig-zag fashion. Plainly they were getting 
higher. All at once, without warning, they 
emerged into a large sort of cave, but whether 
it was of natural or artificial formation it would 
have been impossible to say. As they flashed 
their lanterns hither and thither about this great 
chamber they saw that in parts of it great piles 
of rock lay as if they had at some remote period 
been dumped there with definite intention. 

The miner darted over to one of these and then, 
with a cry of triumph, held up a small chunk of 
rock. In the light of the lanterns, as they 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 247 

crowded about, it flashed and glittered brilliantly. 
Through its dark body ran veins of yellow metal. 

“Thread gold !” cried the miner, and the doctor 
immediately confirmed his analysis. “In these 
piles there must be $10,000 worth of it at least!” 

“I have it !” cried Dr. Duncan suddenly. 
“This place must have been a sort of clearing 
house for the mine; it was to this central cham- 
ber that the ore was brought to be picked over 
before it was refined.” 

“My idea exactly, doctor,” was the rejoinder; 
“and look yonder, if Dm not mistaken, that's a 
crude sort of smelting furnace.” 

He indicated something that looked not unlike 
a rude altar. But above it the roof was smoke- 
blackened and a hole had been pierced, if it had 
not already existed, leading evidently to the pla- 
teau above and forming a natural chimney. A 
few fragments of ore lying on this furnace, as it 
undoubtedly had been, and a thin trickle of gold 
still adhering to the stones in one part of it. 


248 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


showed that the miner’s guess had been a correct 
one. 

After a time devoted to the discussion of this 
discovery, they noticed that leading off the cen- 
tral chamber were numerous doors or rude open- 
ings. They decided to investigate these, and 
forthwith made a disquieting discovery. Evi- 
dently the small chambers, which looked out over 
the desert through the holes they had noticed 
from below, had been used as dwelling places for 
the miners. Each contained a rude sort of shelf 
built up out of adobe which might have served 
either as a cooking or sleeping place, it was hard 
to decide which. Two of these chambers had 
been investigated when Tom, who had pushed 
into a third, gave a sharp cry. Rushing up to 
him, they found the boy regarding with horrified 
eyes a shriveled human form that lay upon the 
floor. Partially mummified as the body was, it 
was easy to see that it had been in life an un- 
usually small Indian. A few strands of straight 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


249 


black hair still hung from the withered, ape- 
like features. So perfectly, in fact, was the body 
preserved that it was almost possible to trace an 
expression of horror on the features, the look of 
one whom an unexpected death had overtaken 
in the midst of every-day pursuits. As if to em- 
phasize this, there lay beside the petrified figure 
a stone pestle and mortar. 

In several other of the small chambers, of 
which there were scores, they found a similar 
thing — the same small form, withered and dried, 
and yet perfectly enough preserved for the fea- 
tures to be almost distinct. 

‘'It is plain enough,'' remarked the doctor after 
a time, “that some cataclysm of nature wiped out 
all who once worked in this mine. But what was 
it ? What could it have been ?" 

No answer to the question was found that day, 
and it was too late to explore further by the time 
that the small chambers and the great cavern 
had been thoroughly examined. Early next day 


250 THE MOTOK CYCLE CHUMS 
the search went on once more. They were com- 
pelled to proceed rapidly, for without more avail- 
able water they would be forced to return in time 
to get a fresh supply. As yet they had plenty, 
the tank having been replenished at Bitter Creek 
Springs. 

The boys had felt somewhat disappointed at 
the results of the first day’s investigation of the 
lone mesa. Somehow, they had expected to 
stumble over strata in which the yellow gold 
would lie like moldy cheese, waiting to be pried 
out. The net result of the day had been inter- 
esting, it is true, but not what they had ex- 
pected. Accordingly, they were ready next day 
long before their elders had given the word to 
start out once more on the search. 

Dr. Duncan was convinced by this time that 
the interior of the mesa was nothing more than 
a vast beehive in which had dwelt the miners of 
the past. From what they had already seen, he 
was inclined to think that the workers in the old 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 251 

mines were but little more than slaves, if not 
actually in a condition of servitude. Possibly 
they were prisoners, taken by the tribes that con- 
trolled the mine from some less active race. 

“From time to time on the Nevada desert,” he 
said, “gold cups, spearheads and ornaments of 
various sorts have been found that have puzzled 
the most learned of antiquaries as to their 
source. It would not surprise me if this lone 
mesa is the place from which those valuable 
relics issued.” 

Between them, Mr. Chilvers and the doctor 
had come to the conclusion that the mines them- 
selves lay below the mesa. It was to find the 
shaft or shafts that led to these lower regions 
that they now bent all their efforts. Before en- 
tering the place that morning the boys had been 
called together and informed of the conclusions 
that had been reached. Instructions were given 
to scatter throughout the place and give imme- 
diate notice of any newly discovered passage. 


252 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 

As before, they all made their way to the 
great cavern, off which the small cubicles opened, 
and then adopted separate routes. Ned and Tom 
struck off alone toward a dark corner of the place 
which had not yet been explored. 

Ned confided to Tom, however, that the day 
before he had fancied for an instant, as his lan- 
tern flashed on it, that he had perceived an open- 
ing in that direction. This was enough to set 
Tom ''on fire’^ at once. The two lads lost no time 
in striking out for the scene of Ned's discovery. 
Sure enough, an opening lay before them. Un- 
like the openings into the small chambers, what- 
ever lay beyond it was not lighted. To enter it 
was to take a plunge into the unknown. 

Excitement urged the two boys on. What if 
they had stumbled on the looked-for shaft, the 
passage that led to a new Golconda? The very 
thought was enough to set their pulses throbbing, 
the blood stirring in their veins. 

Without hesitation they plunged into the dark- 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 253 

ness that lay beyond the opening in the rocky 
wall. The next instant the lights that they car- 
ried vanished from view, had any one been 
watching in the outer chamber. But no eyes 
were upon them. The other treasure hunters 
were far too busy with their own lines of investi- 
gation to pay any attention to what Ned and Tom 
were doing. 

It was ten minutes later that a pallid-faced, 
terror-stricken lad rushed from the dark en- 
trance, his unlighted lantern swinging wildly 
as he ran. 

It was Tom. As he gained the great cave, or 
chamber, he gave utterance to an alarmed shout : 

'‘Uncle Hugh ! Doctor !” 

“What’s the trouble?” came from the shadows 
on the opposite side of the vaulted place, in 
which the boy’s voice rang hollowly. 

“It’s Ned! Something has happened to him! 
Come quick!” 


254 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


CHAPTER XXVL 

MORE discoveries. ! 

I 

When Ned and Tom had entered the tunnel j 
which lay beyond the opening they had discov- ] 
ered, they advanced rapidly for a few score of 
feet. The walls glistened with quartz, which 
they imagined, in their ignorance of such mat- 
ters, must be pure gold. Wild with excitement * 
at the thought that they had discovered the much- 
sought entrance to the mines below, they hastened 
along. 

Ned was in the lead and Tom a few paces be- i 
hind. Tom stopped a few hundred feet from the ; 
surface to examine a curious quartz formation. . 
He was still holding up his lamp to examine it 
when he was startled by the crash of glass in 
front of him and the sound of a body falling. 

He turned quickly around and found that Ned 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 255 

had fallen to the ground and that it was the noise 
of his chum’s breaking lantern that had startled 
him. 

Terribly alarmed, Tom hastened to Ned’s 
side. The boy lay outstretched on the floor of 
the passage, his arms spread wide just as he had 
fallen. Tom tried in vain to rouse him, and it 
was during these efforts that he became aware 
that just beyond where Ned lay the passage was 
crossed by a fissure or crack which extended 
clear across the floor and up one wall. It was 
not more than a foot or so wide. Tom had just 
taken in these details when he became aware that 
from this crack a sort of bluish haze was rising. 
At the same instant he likewise discovered that 
his head felt curiously dizzy, and an oppression 
seemed to weigh down his limbs. 

He leaned down and tried to drag Ned to- 
ward the mouth of the tunnel, but after hauling 
him a few feet he was compelled to relinquish 
his task. If he had remained in the place much 


256 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
longer, Tom felt* that he, too, would succumb. 
Accordingly, summoning every ounce of strength 
he could muster, he fled reelingly toward the en- 
trance of the tunnel to summon aid. 

At his cry, the doctor and Mr. Chilvers came 
running across the floor of the cavern. The 
others followed them, Wing Lung gesticulating 
excitedly. The faithful Chinee was always 
deeply moved by anything that affected Massel 
Ned. But none was allowed to enter the tunnel 
but the lad’s two elders. The rest waited out- 
side in suspense as the two men vanished, carry- 
ing their lanterns. Before very long they 
emerged, panting heavily and half-dragging, 
half-carrying Ned. 

The doctor had prudently brought along his 
medicine case, and Wing was dispatched to 
where it lay with the other supplies on the op- 
posite side of the big cave. Bending over Ned, 
the doctor applied restoratives, and before long 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


257 


the boy’s blue lips and pallid face began to re- 
sume their natural tint. 

The doctor breathed a prayer of thankfulness. 

‘'That was a narrow escape!” he exclaimed, as 
Ned opened his eyes. “That tunnel was full of 
a deadly gas. I am unable to classify it, but in 
my opinion carbon monoxide was certainly one of 
its ingredients. It issued from that crack in the 
floor of the passage.” 

“Doesn’t that suggest something to you, doc- 
tor?” asked Mr. Chilvers interestedly as Ned sat 
up and gulped once or twice. 

“In what way, Chilvers?” 

“Why, that at some remote time this whole 
chamber may have become suddenly filled by that 
gas and thus suffocated those mummified figures 
we saw in the cells.” 

“By Jove, Chilvers, that is a very probable 
theory. At that remote period, when the interior 
fires of the earth were still active, there is no 
doubt but that the gases issuing from that crack 


258 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
must have been far more deadly in quality and 
greater in body. The mere fact that that crack 
exists shows that some convulsion of nature, an 
earthquake or the subsidence of a ‘fault,’ must 
have caused it. The immediate result would be 
a rush of gases from the fissure, probably in suf- 
ficient volume to overwhelm all within reach of 
their poisonous breath. The sudden disaster 
probably terrorized the superstitious aborigines 
who worked these mines, and they fled before 
what they may have deemed the wrath of their 
gods.” 

Ned’s return to his senses prevented the doc- 
tor from elaborating his theory further at the 
time; but he subsequently published a brochure 
on the subject, which may be obtained at any of 
our large libraries. In his theory, however, he 
agrees with Professor Jepson, “On the Lost 
Races of North America,” and Dr. Emil Von 
Brunt, the German authority on the same sub- 
ject. Both these authors agree that some con- 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 259 

vulsion of nature, acting on the superstitious 
terrors of the ancient races, may have caused 
whole districts to be depopulated in the ancient 
days of the continent. 

The recovery of Ned from his stupor was 
rapid and, although he felt slight nausea for 
some time, he experienced no other ill effects. 

As soon as he felt stronger it was decided to 
resume without delay the search for the shaft 
that the doctor now felt certain existed. He was 
compelled to own that it might, as a matter of 
fact, lie down the passage of the poisoned air; 
but, of course, search for it in that deadly place 
would be entirely out of the question. There was 
nothing for it, therefore, but to prosecute the 
search in other directions. 

Tom it was who suggested a course that ulti- 
mately had important results. 

'‘Why not search for some route to the pla- 
teau at the top of the mesa?” he suggested, when 


260 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
about every nook and cranny of the great cav- 
ern had been explored without result. 

“There^s no reason against it/’ declared Mr. 
Chilvers dryly, “except the excellent one that , 
there is no way of getting up there.” 

Tom pointed to the chimney-like opening above 
the ancient smelting furnace. : 

“I think I could worm my way up that if ^ 
you’d let me,” he said. “I could carry a rope \ 
with me and afterward, if I got to the top, haul 
up the rope ladder after me.” 

The rope ladder mentioned was a bit of ap- 
paratus which Mr. Chilvers had, with great fore 
sight, insisted on having included in the equip- 
ment. How useful it was to prove will shortly 
be seen. 

Tom’s elders were rather dubious about allow- 
ing him to try the climb. True, the chimney 
was full of projections and outcropping bits of 
rock, and to an active lad like Tom presented no 
great difficulties. Still, there was unquestionably 



THE FIRST THING THAT MET HIS GAZE ALMOST CAUSE© 
HIM TO LOSE HIS GRIP ON THE EDGE OF THE HOLE. 

— Page 261 . 


« 



IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


261 


a risk attached to such an attempt. But at length 
Tom prevailed. Stripping off his coat he pre- 
pared to ascend the narrow funnel. His first 
step was to climb up on the long extinct furnace 
and fasten round his waist one end of a coil of 
light rope. 

Then he was boosted into the chimney on the 
shoulders of his uncle. Wedging his body 
across, he began his risky ascent. It was not as 
easy by any means as it had looked from below, 
but Tom was a dogged boy, with muscles of steel 
and a heart of oak. Difficulties were to him 
things made to be overcome. With stubborn per- 
sistence he wormed his way up, taking advan- 
tage of a good hand or foothold to rest every now 
and then. 

At last, like a Steeple Jack emerging from a 
chimney, his head projected from the top and 
he looked about him. The first thing that met 
his gaze almost caused him to lose his grip on 


262 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 

the edge of the hole and go toppling down to 

the hard stones of the furnace below him. 

Facing him was the figure of a man with one 
arm outstretched menacingly, as if warning in- 
vaders from the summit. It was not till Tom 
had experienced an unpleasant shock that he real- 
ized that the figure was carved out of stone; but 
so naturally was it executed that, coming on it 
suddenly, any one would have taken it for a liv- 
ing and threatening form. 

‘'What's up, Tom?" came a cry from below at 
this instant. 

The watchers, who had anxiously followed his 
progress up the rocky shaft, had noticed him halt 
at the summit. 

“Nothing," hailed back Tom; “but I just met a 
gentleman." 

“What's that?" came an astonished shout. 

“Can't tell you now. See you later," said Tom 
as, chuckling at his joke, he clambered out upon 
the broad flat plateau which was the summit of 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 263 

the mesa. Around his waist the rope was still 
tattached. Using the stone man, which had ap- 
parently once been some sort of idol, as a hitch- 
ing post, the disrespectful Tom unfastened the 
rope from himself and made it fast to the out- 
stretched arm. 

‘‘You’re a lot more use that way than you are 
scaring the life out of folks,” he remarked as he 
set off on a tour of inspection. 


264 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


CHAPTER XXVIL 

CHII,V^RS TAKES HIS LIFE IN HIS HANDS. 


The top of the mesa — or possibly, to speak 
more correctly, one should call it a butte — was 
about five acres in extent. It was as flat as a 
board, and Tom, as he stood perched high above 
the surrounding desert and the distant arid 
ranges, felt like a sort of aerial Robinson Cru- 
soe. At least, if he had been a poetical youth, he 
might have thus compared himself. 

Being a real boy, however, he was reminded 
of a visit he had once made to the roof of a sky- 
scraper in San Francisco. He advanced to the 
edge and peered over. The sight made him 
fairly dizzy. Far below him lay the dreary, 
waterless plain. Upon it, dwarfed to mere toys, 
were the motor cycles, the auto and the tents. 




IN THE GOLD FIELDS 265 

The tents, from that height, looked like those that 
come with sets of toy soldiers. 

“I guess from below Fd look about as big as a 
pint of peanuts,’’ grinned Tom to himself as he 
took in the spectacle. 

All this time he had completely forgotten about 
the impatient party below. In fact, Tom, now 
that he had gained the summit, felt inclined to 
conduct a personal tour of investigation. Ac- 
cordingly, he set off to take a walk around the 
top of the butte. 

As has been said, the place was as flat as a 
table top, and the figure of the stone idol, which 
had the body of a man but a distorted head like 
an old gargoyle, was the most prominent feature 
of it. As Tom approached the other end of the 
place, however, he saw that, not far from the 
edge, two huge, upright stones had been set on 
end with a third placed across them. 

''Now, what under the sun is that?” thought 
the boy. "Gracious, it looks like a gallows !” he 


266 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


gasped the next minute. “I hope Fm not in for 
any more ghastly discoveries. The sight of those 
bodies in the cells will do me for quite a while.’' 

He approached the queer-looking apparatus 
and found that, fixed between the two upright 
stones, was a sort of drum of moldering wood 
with the remnants of a chain still hanging to it 
and clanking dismally in the desert wind. Un- 
der this chain was a dark hole. With a shout 
of exultation Tom realized instantly what it was 
that he had found — the shaft! 

But this was not to be the end of his discov- 
eries. He came upon another opening in the 
floor of the plateau, down which a flight of steps 
led. But he decided not to explore this till the 
others arrived. 

'T guess Fve got enough to astonish them 
with now,” he said to himself as he hastened 
back toward the mouth of the rocky chimney by 
which he had ascended. 

Kneeling down, Tom gave a long cry. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 


267 


‘‘Hull-o-o-o-o-o !” 

‘'Hullo-o-o-o-o came reverberating back to 
him up the chimney. 

'‘Hook on your rope ladder as soon as you like/' 
he cried cheerfully. 

"Why, have you found something?" came Mr. 
Chilvers' eager voice, booming up through the 
natural speaking tube. 

"I’ve found the shaft!" 

"What?" 

Even up there Tom could hear a buzz of 
amazement among those below. 

"Say that again," demanded Dr. Duncan. 

"I’ve found the shaft!" yelled Tom, determined 
that there should be no doubt as to just what he 
was announcing. ‘ 

"And that isn’t all," he went on, unwilling to 
relinquish the pleasant feeling of causing a big 
sensation. 

"What else, for goodness sake?" cried Dr. 
Duncan, half laughing, as he gazed up at Tom’s 


268 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 

red, excited face framed in the rocky mouth of 

the chimney. 

'‘Another hole in the ground, or in the air, 
whichever you’ve a mind to call it,” declared 
Tom; "but hitch on the rope ladder and come 
up and see for yourselves.” 

You may be sure that no time was lost in do- 
ing this. As soon as Tom could make fast the 
end of the rope ladder to the much-abused idol 
they came up one at a time, Dr. Duncan and Mr. 
Chilvers being the first. With an ill-concealed 
air of triumph, Tom led the way to the shaft 
after the idol had been examined. 

"There, what do you think of that, Uncle 
Hugh?” he asked, waving his hand toward the 
upright stones and the rough windlass. 

Mr. Chilvers clapped his hand on the boy’s 
shoulder. 

"Tom, I guess you’ve found it,” he exclaimed. 
"One way or another you boys are always to the 
fore. What do you think of it, doctor?” f. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 269 

'Tt is the shaft, unquestionably. But the ques- 
tion arises, how are we to get down it?’’ 

^Well, we won’t cross our bridges till we get 
to them. In the meantime, let’s examine this 
'Other 'hole,’ as Tom calls it.” 

This was the opening in the plateau down 
which led the steps that Tom had stumbled on 
just after his discovery of the shaft. The two 
men regarded it in silence for a minute or two, 
then Dr. Duncan spoke : 

"It wouldn’t surprise me if this stairway leads 
to the lower chamber,” he said. 

"But we saw no opening below,” objected Mr. 
Chilvers. 

"Possibly it’s blocked up from that side. At 
any rate, this staircase is worth investigating.” 

The others had arrived on the summit by this 
time, and Dr. Duncan borrowed a lantern from 
A1 Anderson, who still carried his light. Fol- 
lowed by the boys, the geologist dived into the 
darkness, the light shining like a glow-worm as 


270 THE MOTOK CYCLE CHUMS 
he cautiously descended the steep stairway. 
After Ned's experience, none of the party, the 
leaders least of all, was inclined to take chances. 

The stairway led down steeply for some ten or 
twelve feet. Then it became an inclined way on 
which they slipped and stumbled. At last their 
progress was halted by a door. But it was un- 
like any ordinary portal. In fact, had it not been 
for a great bolt which closed it, it is doubtful if 
they would have been able to differentiate it from 
the wall, so perfectly was it fitted. 

Dr. Duncan drew the bolt back, and, although 
centuries must have elapsed since it was touched, 
the bar of metal moved easily, and when they 
pushed it, the door swung outward on its hinges 
without a sound. As Dr. Duncan had half ex- • 
pected, they found themselves once more in the 
great chamber from which Tom had climbed by 
the difficult ''chimney route.’’ 

Retracing their steps, they once more emerged 
upon the "roof,” as it may be called, of the 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 271 

Strange formation, planted by itself in the midst 
of the barren lands. 

Before they had reascended the stairway, Dr. 
Duncan and Mr. Chilvers had sent Wing to the 
pile of supplies to get a spare lantern and all the 
rope. Regaining the roof, the party made for 
the two upright stones that marked the mouth 
of what they were now certain was the 
shaft. 

The rope was rapidly put in shape for reev- 
ing out, and then one end of it was passed over 
the windlass, which had a core of metal and 
which tests proved to be sound and strong. This 
done, Mr. Chilvers, as if by previous arrange- 
ment with Dr. Duncan, divested himself of his 
coat and adjusted the rope into a sort of bos’un’s 
chair in which he seated himself. To the boys 
his purpose was at once apparent. 

He meant to descend the shaft alone at the 
end of that all too slender looking rope. At the 
last moment even Dr. Duncan tried to dissuade 


272 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 

him, but the plucky miner would not hear of 

giving up his project. 

'Xay hold of the rope,'' he ordered, ‘'and 
when I give the word — lower away!" 

It looked terribly risky, this drop into the 
unknown, but they had no choice but to lay hold 
of the rope and await the word. First affixing 
a lighted lantern to his belt, Mr. Chilvers gave 
a final inspection to the windlass, upon the 
strength of which his life depended. This ac- 
complished to his satisfaction, he swung himself 
over the yawning mouth of the shaft. 

“Lower away!" came the word. 

“Easy now!" as in their agitation they let 
him down rather faster than was comfort- 
able. 

The party manning the rope belayed it more 
slowly. 

“So long!" came up a cry from the black 
mouth as it swallowed the intrepid miner. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 273 

‘'Good luck!” burst spontaneously from the 
lips of those left above as they cautiously paid 
out the rope, taking care not to let it down too 
fast. 


274 


THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 


CHPTER XXVIII. 

AIvADDIN's cave:. 

At last, after almost three hundred feet of 
rope had been paid out, and the line was com- 
ing to an end, it grew slack. 

‘'He’s landed somewhere,’^ was the cry. 

For half an hour or more they waited and 
then came two sharp, quick tugs on the rope. 
According to the prearranged code, the doctor 
interpreted this as having two meanings. 

“Everything is all right,” and “Haul me up 
quickly.” 

In the hauling up process a different plan was 
adopted. Two turns of the rope were taken 
around the windlass, which was then turned by 
A1 and Wing Lung, while the others hauled in 
the slack. When Wing and A1 grew tired, two 
of the others took a spell, and in this way it 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 276 

was not long before, to their great relief, the 
head and shoulders of Mr. Chilvers appeared 
above the opening of the shaft. 

As soon as he had brushed some of the dust 
out of his face and hair, he told them his story. 
The shaft was sunk straight down for a dis- 
tance of three hundred feet. How the ancient 
tribes had ever accomplished such a feat he 
could not imagine, but so it was. At frequent 
intervals his lamp had shown him galleries 
branching off from the main shaft, but guessing 
that these were worked out he had kept on 
going. 

At last his feet struck the bottom of the shaft 
and he got out of his not over comfortable seat. 
Before him stretched a tunnel which, seemingly, 
had been driven for quite a distance into the 
earth. He followed it up for several yards and 
at last came to a place where there had appar- 
ently been a landslide. At any rate, a great 
mass of boulders and debris blocked further 


276 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 
progress. There were plenty of signs of gold, 
he said, but, and here came the disappointing 
part, he had encountered no abnormal quantities 
of it. 

His listeners began to look grave. What if 
they had come all that way and endured so many 
hardships only to find a mine which had been 
worked out — drained dry of its precious yield? 

Mr. Chilvers saw the looks and hastened on. 

‘'Mark you,’’ he said, ‘T don’t for a minute 
think, as it is easy to see that you do, that the 
mine will prove nothing but a fizzle. From what 
I have seen, I believe that beyond that heap of 
rubble and rock the vein continues. It was there 
that they were working when the same earth- 
quake that caused the outflow of poisonous gas 
shook down that rock blocking the passage. Re- 
move that, and I am certain that we shall find 
our way to a new Eldorado.” 

“But it would take weeks to get it away,” ob- 
jected Dr. Duncan, “and more labor than we 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 277 

could muster. Besides, work down there would 
be far too arduous for any but trained miners.’’ 

“We don’t need trained miners.” 

“Why not, pray?” 

“For the reason that we have a servant who 
will move it swiftly and expeditiously.” 

“Wha fo’? Me movee lockee?” cried Wing 
Lung, thinking that he was the servant named. 

“I mean dynamite. We will blast our way 
through that tumbledown mass of rock and sat- 
isfy ourselves whether or not the lead runs on.” 

“When do you mean to do this?” 

“Now!” The miner’s lips compressed in a 
firm line. 

“Chilvers, to set off a blast down there will 
be dangerous in the extreme. The man who 
does it takes his life in his hands.” 

“I cannot help it. I must know before night 
if we have followed fool’s gold or if we are on 
the verge of a new Ophir.” 

From a quiet, undemonstrative man, Tom’s 


278 THE MOTOK CYCLE CHUMS 
uncle was transformed into an excited miner 
on the verge of either a vast fortune or ruin. 
He would not listen to Dr. Duncan’s efforts to 
dissuade him, but dispatched Wing Lung for 
four sticks of giant powder at once. He also 
told the Chinaman to bring several yards of slow 
fuse and some caps. All these things had formed 
part of the supplies carried into the cave below, 
and it did not take Wing Lung, assisted by the 
boys, long to get them and bring them to the 
summit of the mesa. 

Mr. Chilvers placed them carefully in a bag 
with a lot of excelsior to prevent them bumping 
against each other or the walls of the shaft, 
while he was being lowered. This done, he cau- 
tioned them to let him down as slowly as 
possible. 

“But when I give the rope two jerks, haul me 
up as fast as your strength will let you,” he 
ordered. “Fm going to set a slow fuse and I 
guess the spark won’t reach the detonators till 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 279 

I reach the top of the shaft, but don’t take 
chances. Haul me up as fast as you can.” 

You may be sure they all resolved to do this, 
and with a parting word Mr. Chilvers was once 
more lowered into the shaft. I leave you to 
imagine with what breathless and tense excite- 
ment and anxiety they waited for the two tugs 
at the rope which would tell them that the fuse 
had been lighted. When the signal came, they 
realized that it depended on their efforts solely 
to pull Mr. Chilvers out of danger before the 
shattering explosion occurred. 

Frantically they hauled till the rope smoked 
on the windlass. It seemed an age before the 
miner appeared once more. Every second Ned 
and his chums had been listening with dread for 
the sound of the fatal explosion, but it seemed 
that they had beaten it. 

Eagerly they dragged the miner out of the 
loop in the rope, and he motioned them all back 
from the mouth of the shaft with outstretched 


280 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
hands. They all heeded the warning with alac- 
rity. 

^Tt will go of¥ any minute now/’ he said, 
breathing hard, ''and the mouth of that shaft 
is a good place to stay away from.” 

"Suppose it had gone off before you reached 
the top?” Ned could not help saying. 

"In that case — but we won’t talk of that. 
I ” 

Bo-oo-oo-m! 

A reverberation that shook the mesa followed 
the hollow roar that proceeded from the mouth 
of the shaft. The blast had been "shot,” as 
they say in mining phrase. Before long, from 
the shaft clouds of thick, yellow smoke began to 
pour. Mr. Chilvers warned the boys back. 

"That smoke is poison,” he said; "it is charged 
with deadly gases from the dynamite. Keep 
away from it.” 

It was two hours before the miner announced 
that he was going down the shaft. 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 281 

‘It may not be safe yet, but Fll risk it,’' he 
said. “If I give a shout, haul me up again.” 

But they felt the rope slacken in due time and 
knew that he had reached the bottom of the 
shaft in safety. Three tugs at the rope assured 
them of this. Then succeeded a long interval. 
No signs came from below. They began to be 
the prey of all sorts of fears. Had their friend 
been overcome by the fumes below? Was he 
lying insensible in the bowels of the earth with 
none to aid him? 

“I can’t stand this suspense much longer!” 
exclaimed Dr. Duncan at length. “If we don’t 
hear something in five minutes. I’ll go down 
myself.” 

The five minutes had almost passed when 
there came two strong, self-confident tugs on the 
rope. Somehow Ned, who was holding the rope 
and waiting a signal from below, sensed in the 
very energy with which they were given that 
they betokened good news. They laid hold of 


282 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
the rope once more, and when the miner reap- 
peared from below, they saw by his face that 
he had wonderful news. 

'‘Well?’’ demanded Dr. Duncan. 

i 

“Aladdin’s palace!” gasped the almost ex- 
hausted miner. “That blast uncovered the en- | 
trance to one of the most wonderful sights of i 
the new world! It is a chamber that simply i 
sparkles with gold, and that, moreover, con- 1 
tains something that was almost as good to me j 
when I reached it — a spring of clear, cool j 
water.” | 

It was the next day that the four boys, who - ; 
had been lowered in turn by their friends above, j| 
stood at the end of the passage and began fl 
clambering over the vast mass of loose rock and ^ 
shale left by the momentous blast. The effect 
of the explosion had been terrific. Rock, broken I 
and splintered, lay in all directions. But with 1 
the knowledge of what lay beyond, the boys I 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 283 

speedily scrambled over this, taking no account 
of bruised knees or cut fingers. 

As their lanterns flashed into the darkness 
beyond and illuminated it, the boys gave a simul- 
taneous gasp. It was the only mode of expres- 
sion left to them just then. 

The enchanted palace of the genii of the 
Arabian Nights could have formed no more 
wonderful picture. They gazed into an enor- 
mous circular cavern, fully fifty feet in height, 
and apparently more than twice that in diam- 
eter. 

In the glare of the lamps its vaulted roof 
shone and flashed with many-faced deposits of 
quartz and mica. While this was beautiful, and 
rivaled in color a jeweled palace of the enchanted 
east, the boys had eyes only for something else. 

The dark greenish rocks that formed the sides 
of the place were literally honeycombed with a 
metal that gleamed dully in the glare of their 
lanterns. 


284 THE MOTOK CYCLE CHUMS 

^‘Gold!’’ shouted Tom, pointing. 

^‘Gold ! — Gold ! — Gold the echoes went shout- 
ing and ringing off into the depths of the cavern. 

The end of the gold trail had been reached 
at last, and treasure inexhaustible lay before 
them. 

The time is six months later. Where once 
there lay the brooding silence of the desert, there 
is now the busy hum of machinery and men. All 
about the lone mesa, as if by magic, there have 
sprung up mining properties and claims, all of 
which are being worked to the limit. 

Such is the call of gold, the magic lure that 
it holds out to men. It can bring them across 
burning deserts, guide them over trackless snows 
and cruel mountain peaks. Within a week after 
the claim to the ChilYers Mine had been re- 
corded, there began a rush to the new gold fields 
that was unprecedented. As if by magic, stump- 
ing mills, smelting furnaces and rough shanties 


IN’ THE GOLD FIELDS 285 

sprang up. A hotel was erected, and before 
long a small, noisy town lay at the foot of the 
long deserted mesa of the desert. 

But of all the properties, the Chilvers is, of 
course, the most productive. In fact, experts 
who have examined it say that the supply of 
gold in the leads opening from that ancient 
cavern are almost inexhaustible. But of course 
the discovered leads cannot be worked outside 
the Chilvers’ claims, so that its generous owners 
hope that there will be a good share for all 
the argonauts. 

Mesaville, as the place is called, owes no small 
part of its prosperity to the fact that pure water 
is plentiful. All that is necessary is to tap the 
vein from which flowed the spring that Hugh 
Chilvers found that eventful day that he set 
off the big blast on the lowest level of the an- 
cient mine. 

As for the boys, each possesses a generous 
amount of shares in the mine, and Wing Lung, 


286 THE MOTOR CYCLE CHUMS 
too, is quite by way of being a capitalist. The 
party of Chinese that so harassed Mr. Chilvers 
before his prosperous days dropped out of sight; 
but the following paragraphs from a San Fran- 
cisco paper of recent date shed some light on 
their ultimate fate. 

^‘An odd scene occurred in the well-known 
banking house of Henderson & Co. yesterday. 
A Chinese of unusual stature, who afterward 
said that his name was Sing Lee, was arrested 
on complaint of Mr. Robert Henderson, the head 
of the firm. Mr. Henderson said that Sing Lee 
had threatened to kill him. 

‘‘The Chinaman, after his arrest, told a ram- 
bling story of having been engaged by Mr. 
Henderson to obtain a map of a mythical gold 
mine somewhere on the Nevada desert. Accord- 
ing to his story, Mr. Henderson agreed to pay 
him a large sum for producing the map, which, 
it appeared, was in the possession of a roving 
miner. The Chinaman claims that he tried to 


IN THE GOLD FIELDS 287 

carry out his part of the contract, but that when 
he informed Mr. Henderson he had failed in his 
mission the latter ordered him from his office. 
Sing Lee then tried, he says, to make the banker 
pay him something for his efforts to obtain the 
map. 

“In court to-day Mr. Henderson, who is well 
known in the mining world, declared that he had 
never seen the Chinaman before. It being found 
that the Mongolian had no papers, he was 
ordered deported. Two of his friends who tried 
to make a demonstration in the court room were 
promptly arrested, and, as they also were minus 
their papers, they were sent out of the country.’" 

And now it is necessary to leave our young 
friends for a time. Their work and their play 
in the gold fields which they had helped to dis- 
cover under such strenuous circumstances had 
brought them into contact with the unique people 
and conditions of a mining town. They felt 


288 THE MOTOE CYCLE CHUMS 
that these experiences were not the least inter- 
esting of the eventful trip, and they often re- 
called and recounted them after their return to 
the old home and the new college life. 

They were ready, however, ere long, for fresh 
adventures, and the door of opportunity soon 
opened. Of course Wing Lung shared the new 
experiences as he had the old, and those who 
care to learn how he and our Motor Cycle 
Chums conducted themselves in the dangers, dif- 
ficulties and humorous incidents of further travel 
may renew their acquaintance with them and 
their friends in the next volume of this series. 


THE end. 


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The Boy Aviators on Seeret Service 

Or, Working With Wireless 

In this live-wire narrative of peril and adventure, 
laid in the Everglades of Florida, the spunky Chester 
Boys and their interesting chums, including Ben Stubbs, 
the maroon, encounter exciting experiences on Uncle 
Sam’s service in a novel field. One must read this 
vivid, enthralling story of incident, hardship and pluck 
to get an idea of the almost limitless possibilities of 
the two greatest inventions of modern times — the aero- 
plane and wireless telegraphy. While gripping and 
holding the reader’s breathless attention from the open- 
ing words to the finish, this swift-moving story is at 
the same time instructive and uplifting. As those 
readers who have already made friends with Frank and 
Harry Chester and their “bunch” know, there are few 
difficulties, no matter how insurmountable they may 
seem at first blush, that these up-to-date gritty youths 
cannot overcome with flying colors. A clean-cut, real 
boys* book of high voltage. 


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BOY AVIATORS’ SERIES 

BY CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON 

Abaolutely Modern Storiea for Boys 

Cloth Bound Price 50c per volume 


The Boy Aviators in Africa 

Or, An Aerial Ivory Trail 

In this absorbing book we meet, on a Continent made 
famous by the American explorer Stanley, and ex-Presi- 
dent Roosevelt, our old friends, the Chester Boys and 
their stalwart chums. In Africa — the Dark Continent — 
the author follows in exciting detail his young heroes, 
their voyage in the first aeroplane to fly above the mys- 
terious forests and unexplored ranges of the mystic land. 
In this book, too, for the first time, we entertain Luther 
Barr, the old New York millionaire, who proved later 
such an implacable enemy of the boys. The story of his j 
defeated schemes, of the astonishing things the boys dis- | 
covered in the Mountains of the Moon, of the pathetic 1 
fate of George Desmond, the emulator of Stanley, the 1 
adventure of the Flying Men and the discovery of the | 
Arabian Ivory cache, — this is not the place to speak. It | 
would be spoiling the zest of an exciting tale to reveal I 
the outcome of all these episodes here. It may be said, I 
however, without “giving away” any of the thrilling | 
chapters of this narrative, that Captain Wilbur Lawton, | 
the author, is in it in his best vein, and from his personal i 
experiences in Africa has been able to supply a striking | 
background for the adventures of his young heroes. As | 
one newspaper says of this book. “Here is adventure in S 
good measure, pressed down and running over.” i 


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BOY AYSSTOBS’ SERIES 

BY CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON 
Absolutely Modern Stories for Boy* 

Cloth Bound Price 50c per volume 


The Boy Aviators Treasure Quest 

Or, The Golden Galleon 

Everybody is a boy once more when it comes to the 
question of hidden treasure. In this book. Captain Lawton 
has set forth a hunt for gold that is concealed neither 
under the sea nor beneath the earth, but is well hidden 
for all that.' A garrulous old sailor, who holds the key 
to the mystery of the Golden Galleon, plays a large 
part in the development of the plot of this fascinating 
1 narrative of treasure hunting in the region of the Gulf 
Stream and the Sagasso Sea. An aeroplane fitted with effi- 
cient pontoons — enabling her to skim the water success- 
fully — has long been a dream of aviators. The Chester 
Boys seem to have solved the problem. The Sagasso, 
that strange drifting ocean within an ocean, holding ships 
of a dozen nations and a score of ages, in its relentless 
grip, has been the subject of many books of adventure 
and mystery, but in none has the secret of the ever 
shifting mass of treacherous currents been penetrated as 
it has in the BOY AVIOTORS TREASURE QUEST. 
Luther Barr, whom it seemed the boys had shaken off, 
is still on their trail, in this absorbing book and with a 
dirigible balloon, essays to beat them out in their search 
for the Golden Galleon. Every boy, every man — and 
woman and girl — who has ever felt the stirring summons 
of adventure in their souls, had better get hold of this 
book. Once obtained, it will be read and re-read till 
it falls to rags. 


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BOY AVIATORS’ SERIES 

BY CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON 

Absolutely Modern Stories for Boys 

Cloth Bound Price 50c per volume 


The Boy Aviators in Record Flight 

Or, The Rival Aeroplane 

The Chester Boys in new field of endeavor — an attempt 
to capture a newspaper prize for a trans-continental flight. 
By the time these lines are read, exactly such an offer 
will have been spread broadcast by one of the foremost 
newspapers of the country. In the Golden Eagle, the 
boys, accompanied by a trail-blazing party in an auto- 
mobile, make the dash. But they are not alone in their 
aspirations. Their rivals for the rich prize at stake try 
in every way that they can to circumvent the lads and 
gain the valuable trophy and monetary award. In this 
they stop short at nothing, and it takes all the wits and 
resources of the Boy Aviators to defeat their devices. 
Among the adventures encountered in their cross-country 
flight, the boys fall in with a band of rollicking cow-boys 
— who momentarily threaten serious trouble — are attacked 
by Indians, strike the most remarkable town of the 
desert — the “dry” town of “Gow Wells,” encounter a 
sandstorm which blows them into strange lands far to the 
south of their course, and meet with several amusing 
mishaps beside. A thoroughly readable book. The sort 
to take out behind the barn on the sunny side of the hay- 
stack, and, with a pocketful of juicy apples and your heels 
kicking the air, pass happy hours with Captain Lawton’s 
young heroes. 


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BOY AVIATORS’ SERIES 

BY CAPTAEN WELBUR LAWTON 
Absolutely Modem Stories for Boys 

Cloth Bound Price 50c per volume 


The Boy Aviators Polar Dash 

Or, Facing Death ia the Antarctic 

If you were to hear that two boys, accompanying a South 
Polar expedition in charge of the aeronautic department, 
were to penetrate the Antarctic regions — hitherto only 
attained by a few daring explorers — you would feel inter- 
ested, wouldn’t you? Well, in Captain Lawton’s latest 
book, concerning his Boy Aviators, you can not only read 
absorbing adventure in the regions south of the eightieth 
parallel, but absorb much useful information as well. 
Captain Lawton introduces — besides the original charac- 
ters of the heroes — a new creation in the person of Pro- 
fessor Simeon Sandburr, a patient seeker for polar in- 
sects. The professor’s adventures in his quest are the 
cause of much merriment, and lead once or twice to 
serious predicaments. In a volume so packed with incident 
and peril from cover to cover — relieved with laughable 
mishaps to the professor — it is difficult to single out any 
one feature; still, a recent reader of it wrote the pub- 
lishers an enthusiastic letter the other day, saying: “The 
episodes above the Great Barrier are thrilling, the attack 
of the condors in Patagonia made me hold my breath, 
the — but what’s the use? The Polar Dash, to my mind, 
is an even more entrancing book than Captain Lawton’s 
previous efforts, and that’s saying a good deal. The avia- 
tion features and their technical correctness are by no 
means the least attractive features of this up-to-date 
creditable volume.” 


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BORDER BOYS SERIES 

Mexican and Canadian Frontier Series 

By FREMONT B. DEERING. 

Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid 

THE BORDER BOYS 

ON THE TRAIL. 

What it meant to make an enemy 
of Black Ramon De Barios — that is 
the problem that Jack Merrill and 
his friends, including Coyote Pete, 
face in this exciting tale. 

THE BORDER BOYS 

ACROSS THE FRONTIER. 

Read of the Haunted Mesa and its 
mysteries, of the Subterranean River 

- fand its strange uses, of the value of 

gasolene and steam “in running the gauntlet,” and you will 
feel that not even the ancient splendors of the Old World 
can furnish a better setting for romantic action than the 
Border of the New. 



THE BORDER BOYS WITH THE MEXICAN 
RANGERS. 

As every day is making history — faster, it is said, than 
ever before — so books that keep pace with the changes 
are full of rapid action and accurate facts. This book 
deals with lively times on the Mexican border. 

THE BORDER BOYS WITH THE TEXAS 
RANGERS. 

The Border Boys have already had much excitement 
and adventure in their lives, but all this has served to 
prepare them for the experiences related in this volume. 
They are stronger, braver and more resourceful than ever, 
and the exigencies of their life in connection with the 
Texas Rangers demand all their trained ability. 

Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price. 

HURST & COMPANY - Publishers - NEW YORK 


MOTOR RANGERS SERIES 

HIGH SPEED MOTOR STORIES 

By MARVIN WEST. 

Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid 

THE MOTOR RANGERS’ 
LOST MINE. 

This is an absorbing story of the 
continuous adventures of a motor 
car in the hands of Nat Trevor and 
his friends. It does seemingly im- 
possible “stunts,” and yet everything 
happens “in the nick of time.” 

THE MOTOR RANGERS 

THROUGH THE SIERRAS. 

Enemies in ambush, the peril of 
fire, and the guarding of treas.ure 
make exciting times for the Motor 
Rangers — yet there is a strong flavor of fun and freedom, 
with a typical Western mountaineer for spice. 

THE MOTOR RANGERS ON BLUE WATER; or, 

The Secret of the Derelict. 

The strange adventures of the sturdy craft “Nomad” and 
the stranger experiences of the Rangers themselves with 
Morello’s schooner and a mysterious derelict form the basis 
of this well-spun yarn of the sea. 

THE MOTOR RANGERS’ CLOUD CRUISER. 

From the “Nomad” to the “Discoverer,” from the sea to 
the sky, the scene changes in which the Motor Rangers figure. 
They have experiences “that never were on land or sea,” 
in heat and cold and storm, over mountain peak and lost 
city, with savages and reptiles; their ship of the air is at- 
tacked by huge birds of the air ; they survive explosion and 
earthquake ; they even live to tell the tale ! 

Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price. 

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BUNGALOW BOYS SERIES 

LIVE STORIES OF OUTDOOR LIFE 

By DEXTER J. FORRESTER. 


Cloth Bonnd. Illustrated. Price, 50 c. per vol., postpaid 

THE BUN6AL0W BOYS. 

How the Bungalow Boys received 
their title and how they retained the 
right to it in spite of much opposition 
makes a lively narrative for lively boys. 



^Ae - 
BUNGALOW 
BOYS 

PLXTERJ FORRESTER 


THE BUNGALOW BOYS MA- 
ROONED IN THE TROPICS. 

A real treasure hunt of the most 
thrilling kind, with a sunken Span- 
ish galleon as its object, makes a 
subject of intense interest at any 
time, but add to that a band of desperate men, a dark plot 
and a devil fish, and you have the combination that brings 
strange adventures into the lives of the Bungalow Boys. 


THE BUNGALOW BOYS IN THE GREAT NORTH 
WEST. 

The clever assistance of a young detective saves the boys 
from the clutches of Chinese smugglers, of whose nefarious 
trade they know too much. How the Professor’s invention re- 
lieves a critical situation is also an exciting incident of this book. 

THE BUNGALOW BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES. 

The Bungalow Boys start out for a quiet cruise on the 
Great Lakes and a visit to an island. A storm and a band 
of wreckers interfere with the serenity of their trip, and a 
submarine adds zest and adventure to it. 


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DREADNOUGHT BOYS SERIES 

Tales of the New Navy 

By CAPT. WILBUR LAWTON 

Author of “BOY AVIATORS SERIES ” 

Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per vol., postpaid 

THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS 
ON BATTLE PRACTICE. 

Especially interesting and timely 
is this book which introduces the 
reader with its heroes, Ned and Here, 
to the great ships of modern warfare 
and to the intimate life and surprising 
adventures of Uncle Sam’s sailors. 

THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS 
ABOARD A DESTROYER. 

In this story real dangers threaten 
and the boys’ patriotism is tested in 
a peculiar international tangle. The scene is laid on the 
South American coast. 

THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON A SUBMARINE. 

To the inventive genius — ^trade-school boy or mechanic — 
this story has special charm, perhaps, but to every reader its 
mystery and clever action are fascinating. 

THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON AERO SERVICE. 

Among the volunteers accepted for Areo Service are Ned 
and Here. Their perilous adventures are not confined to the 
air, however, although they make daring and notable flights 
in the name of the Government; nor are they always able 
to fly beyond the reach of their old “enemies,” who are also 
airmen. 

Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price. 
HTTEST & COMPANY . Publishers - NEW YOEK 



FRANK ARMSTRONG SERIES 

Twentietihi Century Athletic Stories 

By MATHEW M. COLTON. 

Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 60 c. per vol., postpaid 

FRANK ARMSTRONG’S 

VACATION. 

How Frank’s summer experi- 
ence with his boy friends make* 
him into a sturdy young athlete 
through swimming, boating, and 
baseball contests, and a tramp 
through the Everglades, is the 
subject of this splendid story. 

FRANK ARMSTRONG 

AT QUEENS. 

We find among the jolly boys 
at Queen’s School, Frank, the student-athlete, Jimmy, the 
baseball enthusiast, and Lewis, the unconsciously-funny 
youth who furnishes comedy for every page that bears 
his name. Fall and winter sports between intensely rival 
school teams are expertly described. 

FRANK ARMSTRONG’S SECOND TERM. 

The gymnasium, the track and the field make the back- 
ground for the stirring events of this volume, in which 
David, Jimmy, Lewis, the “Wee One” and the “Codfish” 
figure, while Frank “saves the day.” 

FRANK ARMSTRONG. DROP KICKER, 

With the same persistent determination that won him 
success in swimming, running and baseball playing, Frank 
Armstrong acquired the art of “drop kicking,” and the 
Queen’s football team profits thereby. 

Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price. 

HTJEST & COMPANY - PubUshers - NEW YOEK 



BOY INVENTORS SERIES 

Stories of Skill and Ingenuity 

By RICHARD BONNER 

Cloth Bonnd. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per voL, postpaid 

THE BOY INVENTORS’ 

WIRELESS TELEGRAPH. 

Blest with natural curiosity, — 
sometimes called the instinct of in- 
vestigation, — favored with golden 
opportunity, and gifted with crea- 
tive ability, the Boy Inventors 
meet emergencies and contrive 
mechanical wonders that interest 
and convince the reader because 
they always “work” when put to 
the test. 

THE BOY INVENTORS’ VANISHING GUN. 

A thought, a belief, an experiment; discouragement, 
hope, effort and final success — this is the history of many 
an invention; a history in which excitement, competition, 
danger, despair and persistence figure. This merely sug- 
gests the circumstances which draw the daring Boy In- 
ventors into strange experiences and startling adventures, 
and which demonstrate the practical use of their vanish- 
ing gun. 

THE BOY INVENTORS’ DIVING TORPEDO BOAT. 

As in the previous stories of the Boy Inventors, new 
and interesting triumphs of mechanism are produced 
which become immediately valuable, and the stage for 
their proving and testing is again the water. On the 
surface and below it, the boys have jolly, contagious fun, 
and the story of their serious, purposeful inventions 
challenge the reader’s deepest attention. 

Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price. 

HUEST & COMPANY - Publishers - NEW YORK 




OAKDALE ACADEMY SERIES 

Stories of Modem School Sports 

By MORGAN SCOTT. 

Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per vol., postpaid 

BEN STONE AT OAKDALE. 

Under peculiarly trying circum- 
stances Ben Stone wins his way at 
Oakdale Academy, and at the 
same time enlists our sympathy, 
interest and respect. Through the 
enmity of Bern Hayden, the loyalty 
of Roger Eliot and the clever work 
of the “Sleuth,” Ben is falsely ac- 
cused, championed and vindicated. 

BOYS OF OAKDALE 

ACADEMY. 

“One thing I will claim, and that 
is that all Grants fight open and 
square and there never was a sneak among them.” It was 
Rodney Grant, of Texas, who made the claim to his friend, 
Ben Stone, and this story shows how he proved the truth 
of this statement in the face of apparent evidence to the 
contrary. 

RIVAL PITCHERS OF OAKDALE. 

Baseball is the main theme of this interesting narrative, 
and that means not only clear and clever descriptions of 
thrilling games, but an intimate acquaintance with the 
members of the teams who played them. The Oakdale 
Boys were ambitious and loyal, and some were even dis- 
gruntled and jealous, but earnest, persistent work won out. 

OAKDALE BOYS IN CAMP. 

The typical vacation is the one that means much free- 
dom, little restriction, and immediate contact with “all out- 
doors.” These conditions prevailed in the summer camp of 
the Oakdale Boys and made it a scene of lively interest. 
THE GREAT OAKDALE MYSTERY. 

The “Sleuth” scents a mystery! He “follows his nose.” 
The plot thickens! He makes deductions. There are 
surprises for the reader — and for the “Sleuth,” as well. 

NEW BOYS AT OAKDALE. 

A new element creeps into Oakdale with another year's 
registration of students. The old and the new standards 
of conduct in and out of school meet, battle, and cause 
sweeping changes in the lives of several of the boys. 

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HURST & COMPANY - Publishers - NEW YORK 




Ben Stone 
at Oakdale 


1 ' ' ' ' 



QIRL AVIATORS SERIES 

Clean Aviation Stories 

By MARGARET BURNHAM. 

Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid 

THE GIRL AVIATORS AND 
THE PHANTOM AIRSHIP. 

Roy Prescott was fortunate in 
having a sister so clever and de- 
voted to him and his interests that 
they could share work and play 
with mutual pleasure and to mutual 
advantage. This proved especially 
true in relation to the manufacture 
and manipulation of their aero- 
plane, and Peggy won well de- 
served fame for her skill and good 
sense as an aviator. There were 
many stumbling-blocks in their terrestial path, but they 
soared above them all to ultimate success. 

THE GIRL AVIATORS ON GOLDEN WINGS. 

That there is a peculiar fascination about aviation that 
wins and holds girl enthusiasts as well as boys is proved 
by this tale. On golden wings the girl aviators rose for 
many an exciting flight, and met strange and unexpected 
experiences. 

THE GIRL AVIATORS’ SKY CRUISE. 

To most girls a coaching or yachting trip is an adven- 
ture. How much more perilous an adventure a “sky 
cruise” might be is suggested by the title and proved by 
the story itself. 

THE GIRL AVIATORS’ MOTOR BUTTERFLY. 

The delicacy of flight suggested by the word “butterfly,” 
the mechanical power implied by “motor,” the abiltity to 
control assured in the title “aviator,” ali combined with 
the personality and enthusiasm of girls themselves, make 
this story one for any girt or other reader “to go crazy 
over.” 

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nOLLY BROWN SERIES 

College Life Stories for Girls 

By NELL SPEED. 

Cloth Bound. Ulnstrated. Price, 60 c. per vol., postpaii 

MOLLY BROWN’S 

FRESHMAN DAYS. 

^ Would you like to admit to your 
circle of friends the most charming 
of college girls — the typical college 
girl for whom we are always look- 
ing but not always finding; the type 
that contains so many delightful 
characteristics, yet without un- 
pleasant perfection in any; the 
natural, unaffected, sweet-tempered 
girl, loved because she is lovable? 
Then seek an introduction to Molly 
Brown. You will find the baggage-master, the cook, the 
Professor of English Literature, and the College President 
in the same company. 

MOLLY BROWN’S SOPHMORE DAYS. 

What is more delightful than a re-union of college girls 
after the summer vacation? Certainly nothing that pre- 
cedes it in their experience — at least, if all class-mates 
are as happy together as the Wellington girls of this 
story. Among Molly’s interesting friends of the second 
year is a young Japanese girl, who ingratiates her “humbly” 
self into everybody’s affections speedily and permanently. 

MOLLY BROWN’S JUNIOR DAYS. 

Financial stumbling blocks are not the only things that 
hinder the ease and increase the strength of college girls. 
Their troubles and their triumphs are their own, often 
peculiar to their environment. How Wellington students 
meet the experiences outside the class-rooms is worth the 
doing, the telling and the reading. 

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MOTOR MAIDS SERIES 

Wholesome Stories of Adventure 

By KATHERINE STOKES. 

Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid 

THE MOTOR MAIDS’ 

SCHOOL DAYS. 

Billie Campbell was just the type 
of a straightforward, athletic girl 
to be successful as a practical 
Motor Maid. She took her car, as 
she did her class-mates, to her 
heart, and many a grand good time 
did they have all together. The 
road over which she ran her 
red machine had many an unex- 
pected turning, — now it led her 
into peculiar danger; now into con- 
tact with strange travelers; and again into experiences 
by fire and water. But, best of all, “The Comet” never 
failed its brave girl owner. 

THE MOTOR MAIDS BY PALM AND PINE. 

Wherever the Motor Maids went there were lively times, 
for these were companionable girls who looked upon the 
world as a vastly interesting place full of unique adven- 
tures — and so, of course, they found them. 

THE MOTOR MAIDS ACROSS THE CONTINENT. 

It is always interesting to travel, and it is wonderfully 
entertaining to see old scenes through fresh eyes. It is 
that privilege, therefore, that makes it worth while to join 
the Motor Maids in their first ’cross-country run. 

THE MOTOR MAIDS BY ROSE, SHAMROCK AND 
HEATHER. 

South and West had the Motor Maids motored, nor 
could their education by travel have* been more wisely 
begun. But now a speaking acquaintance with their own 
country enriched their anticipation of an introduction to 
the British Isles. How they made their polite American 
bow and how they were received on the other side is a 
tale of interest and inspiration. 

Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price. 

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BOY SCOUT SEMES 

BY 

LIEUT. HOWARD PAYSON 
MODERN BOY SCOUT STORIES FOR BOYS 
Cloth Bound Price, 50 / per volume. 

The Boy Scouts of the Eagle PatroL 

A fascinating narrative of the doings of some 
bright boys who become part of the great Boy 
Scout movement. The first of a series dealing 
with this organization, which has caught on like 
wild fire among healthy boys of all ages and in 
all parts of the country. 

While in no sense a text-book, the volume 
deals, amid its exciting adventures, with the 
practical side of Scouting. To Rob Blake and 
his companions in the Eagle Patrol, surprising, 
and sometimes perilous things happen constant- 
ly. But the lads, who are, after all, typical 
of most young Americans of their type, are 
resourceful enough to overcome every one of 
their dangers and difficulties. 

How they discover the whereabouts of little 
Joe, the “kid” of the patrol, by means of smoke 
telegraphy and track his abductors to their dis- 
grace; how they assist the passengers of a stran- 
ded steamer and foil a plot to harm and perhaps 
kill an aged sea-captain, one must read the book 
to learn. A swift-moving narrative of convin- 
cing interest and breathless incident. 


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BOY SCOUT 



BY 


LIEUT. HOWARD PAYSON 

MODERN BOY SCOUT STORIES FOR BOYS 


Cloth Bound, Price 50 / per volume. 


The Boy Scouts on the Range. 

Connected with the dwellings of the van- 
ished race of cliff-dwellers was a mystery. Who 
so fit to solve it as a band of adventurous Boy 
Scouts? The solving of the secret and the routing 
of a bold band of cattle thieves involved Rob 
Blake and his chums, including “Tubby” Hop- 
kins, in grave difficulties. 

There are few boys who have not read of 
the weird snake dance and other tribal rites of 
Moquis. In this volume, the habits of these fast 
vanishing Indians are explained in interesting 
detail. Few boys’ books hold more thrilling 
chapters than those concerning Rob’s captivity 
among the Moquis. 

Through the fascinating pages of the nar- 
rative also stalks, like a grim figure of impending 
tragedy, the shaggy form of Silver Tip, the giant 
grizzly. In modem juvenile writing, there is 
little to.be found as gripping as the scene in 
which Rob and Silver Tip meet face to face« 
The boy is weaponless and, — but it would not 
be fair to divulge the termination of the battle. 
A book which all Boy Scouts should secure and 
place upon their shelves to be read and re-read. 


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4 

















